


Golden Slumbers

by my_happy_little_bean, SolemnVow



Series: Golden Slumbers [1]
Category: Sander Sides, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders, Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF) - Fandom
Genre: (I promise), (in future chapters), AU, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Cheating, Eventual Romance, Eventually :P, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Logan owns a flower shop, Lots of flowers, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Patton owns a pun-filled gift shop, Roman owns a Broadway-themed café, Slow Burn, Virgil plays the piano, flower shop au, happy endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-03-02 00:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 75,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13306347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_happy_little_bean/pseuds/my_happy_little_bean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolemnVow/pseuds/SolemnVow
Summary: Logan Fray has been running his flower shop, Aster’s, for about three years now. He hasn’t run into too much trouble yet—other than the  occasional presence of his friend, Roman Prince, who runs a Broadway-themed café across the street—and his life had been relatively quiet for quite some time now. That is, until Patton Sanders opens up a gift shop next door that prides itself in pun-filled cards. That's when Logan's life gets a bit...louder.





	1. Daffodils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan decided that he had never been more confused in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: none in this chapter, i believe ^-^
> 
> a/n- i guess i should start off by saying the obvious; that i came up with this idea after reading @tinysidestrashcaptain‘s story “it’s only logical." it’s one of my favourite sander sides fics ever (which is probably a popular opinion :P). i promise this is a different flower shop story though — the only difference between this story and her story is that her story is better :P
> 
> i, of course, have also been inspired by another one of my favourite sander sides fic ever called “to build a home” by @a-valorous-choice. this fic has made me cry on several occasions. read it.
> 
> both writers sort of helped me say “hey, i wanna write somethin’ cool too,” and so after literally two days of non-stop planning (and gushing about it with my 10/10 best friendo @virgiltheanxious) i has a story! i promise it’s going to be a journey indeed, and i hope you all decide to join me xx

_"daffodils = new beginnings.”_

~*~ 

Logan Fray stood in front of the new shop with his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

He had been standing there for quite some time now, certainly longer than he anticipated; so long, in fact, that he had missed an estimated of three calls — he could even see his phone buzzing on the flower display near his own shop window.

As predicted, it also didn’t take long for the new shop’s door to swing open. Bells rang in his ears and it isn’t until he catches a glimpse of a grey cardigan brush past him that he assumes a  ~~normal~~  less  _stoic_  stance.

“Hiya!” the man chirped.

Logan blinks. He decided that he had never been more confused in his entire life.

Noticing Logan barely moved, the man’s smile faltered. He extended his arm forward anyway.

“I’m Patton!” Logan hesitantly took the stranger’s— _Patton’s_ —hand. “Patton Sanders, actually! I can’t help but notice that you’ve been standing here for quite a long time — is something wrong?”

Logan shook his head, shaking Patton’s hand slowly.

“Everything is adequate at this time, thank you.” Patton’s smile returned, wider than ever, upon hearing Logan speak. “My name is Logan Fray. I run the flower shop next door,  _Aster’s_. I apologize for my rather unusual presence, but I just can’t help but notice, um...”

He trailed off, not really knowing what to say. He glanced once more at sign, and Patton’s eyes soon followed. Patton grinned.

“My sign?” Patton finished for him. Logan looked at him curiously.

“This is  _your_  shop?”

“Yup!” Patton answered cheerily. “I just opened up today actually!”

 _‘How did I not notice before?’_  Logan thought.  _‘I mean, it was to be expected — the space has been empty for quite some time now…’_

“Oh, this is just so exciting!” Patton continued. Logan barely paid attention, eyes still fixated at the sign. “We’re going to be store neighbours! Isn’t that just great?”

Logan didn’t respond. He pushed his glasses up, and Patton looks up at the sign as well.

“Is everything okay?” Patton asked against. Logan cleared his throat.

“It’s just…” He sighed, “ _Home Again...Card-igan?_ ”

Pattom beamed. “Yup! Thought it gave the shop a little warm, fuzzy...home-y feeling!”

 _‘Home-y is not a word,’_  Logan thought of saying. He decided against it as it sounded  ~~cold, how typical of him~~  unrelated to the conversation.

“I don’t quite understand,” he said instead.

“Well for starters, I always wear a cardigan around my shoulder,” Patton explained with a wide smile, flipping the grey sleeves of the cardigan over his shoulder. “And then I sell cards! All my cards are custom-made by me, and each one has a silly pun on it!

Logan frowned. He could barely see, but he could make out shelves and shelves of cards through the window of Patton’s shop.

“You...you made all of your own cards?” he asked, almost surprised.

“Yup!” he said proudly. “I wanted to stock up on a bunch before opening up, but I figured that since business may be slow for the first few days, I can make more in my spare time — ooh, I actually just thought of a Christmas one about sheep…”

“It’s January.” Logan accidentally let the tainted remark slip out. He grimaced, waiting Patton’s hurt or offended expression,  ~~how can someone be so _rude?_~~  but Patton grins instead.

“Never a wrong time for Christmas!” Logan looked at him, bewildered. “Now, under ‘ _Fleece_  Navidad’, should the sheep wear a Santa hat, or— oh! How about a sombrero strung with Christmas lights?!”

 _‘This man is the epitome of sunshine,’_  Logan thought to himself.

“I find it rather impressive that you have designed all of those cards on your own,” Logan said, pushing his glasses not because he needed to, but out of habit. His heart rate began to race.

“Why thank you, Logan!” he said brightly.

“Of course. Such talent is truly commendable,” Logan said, adjusting his tie nervously. What has gotten into him?

“Aw, well shucks!” Patton rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. Logan swore that Patton’s smile nearly reached his ears. “Well I graduated with a master’s degree in graphic design and a bachelor’s degree in visual arts. I originally wanted to be a web designer, but a bunch of my relatives loved their pun-filled birthday cards that I made, so I decided to take a business course to get some money out of it!”

“I see,” Logan said. “Well it is a very...unique concept.”

“Sure is!” Patton said happily. “I used to own a smaller shop a few blocks away, but I found this location a few months ago and knew I had to have it! It’s certainly an upgrade from my crammed little shack before, it’s a bit closer to my younger brother’s college so I can keep my eyes on him, and I am honestly so glad to have a little more leg room, you know?”

Patton’s words were merely grazing over Logan’s head. He blinked, almost overwhelmed by the amount of words coming out of Patton’s mouth.

“Anyway, what about you?” Logan looked at Patton, suddenly attentive. “You said you own a shop too?”

Logan nodded. “Well, as I mentioned previously, I own the flower shop called  _Aster’s_. I opened it about three years ago.”

“ _Aster’s_  is a lovely name for a flower shop!” Patton gushed. “May I  _ask_ -ter’s what’s the story behind it?”

Logan blinked, confused.

“You know,” Patton continued, lightly nudging Logan. “Like  _Aster’s_ , but...but  _ask_ -ter’s?”

Logan took a deep breath. “I...I see.”

Patton’s bright smile almost hurt to look at. He continued.

“I earned a PhD in botany and a master’s degree in business and linguistics during my years at university,” Logan explained. “Not too long after, I decided to begin a business. The name of the store is named after Mrs. Rosanna Aster — my violin teacher when I was an adolescent. She...she helped me throughout my childhood. She was one of my significant role models growing up. She had a love for botany and the study of flowers’ meanings, and it inspired me quite a bit, as you can already tell. After she passed away, I decided to open the shop in her honour.”

“Aww, Logan!” Patton squealed, startling Logan. “That is so sweet!”

Logan let a smile slip onto his face, a twinkle of nostalgia glistening in his eyes.

“Yes, she was a remarkable woman,” he said softly.

“And a PhD in botany?” Patton continues. “ _And_  a master’s degree in business and...and luigini?”

“Linguistics,” Logan corrected lightly, “but Alexandre Clément Léon Joseph Luigini’s  _Ballet Égyptien_  was a remarkable achievement within itself.”

Patton frowned, suddenly confused. Logan blinked before blushing furiously.

“Apologies,” he said, clearing his throat. “I tend to stray from the conversation at hand quite regularly. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t sweat it, Lo!” Patton replied, much to Logan’s surprise. “I just wanted to say  _wow_! All of those degrees and stuff — that must’ve been a lot of hard work!”

Logan let himself smile. “My deepest gratitude, Patton.”

“Your parents must be so proud, honestly.” Logan’s smile faltered, and a beat of silence passed. Patton must’ve noticed Logan’s sudden withdrawal because he quickly said straight after, “Well either way,  _I’m_  proud! You deserve a  _pat_ -ton the back for that!” 

Logan blinked, surprised.

“Did you...did you just make a self-referential pun?”

Patton’s eyes twinkled. “I was waiting to ever since I told you my name! Ever since then, I was... _patton_ -pending.”

Patton laughed, and Logan’s cheeks immediately flushed red.

“I see you’re a connoisseur in...wordplay,” Logan managed to say.

“It’s quite helpful when you run a business like mine!” Patton chirped. He looked at his wrist-watch and his eyes widened.

“Well would ya look at that?” he said, looking back up at Logan. “Time flies when you’re having fun, am I right? It’s almost about time for me to open up the shop!”

Logan nodded slowly, looking at his own watch:  _9:00 am_.

“It would be best if I return as well,” Logan said. Patton grinned, shaking Logan’s hand once more and catching him by surprise.

“It’s going to be great getting to know you!” Patton chirped. Logan prayed that Patton couldn’t feel his elevated pulse. “You know, cards and flowers sort of go together, don’t you think?”

“Likewise,” Logan managed to say, slowly drawing his hand back. “I hope to work with you on future occasions — I believe both our business compliment one another. We may be able to benefit each other.”

“Aww, that would be great!” Patton said, backing away towards his shop entrance. “Hey, let’s grab some coffee eventually, ‘kay? That café across the street seems really interesting!”

Logan pushed his glasses up once more. He watched Patton disappear into his shop before looking at  _Tea and Tunes_ , the café across the street.

A familiar face stood out in the glass door and Logan blushed furiously as the person smiled smugly, flipping over the sign that said “Opening up!” and winking at Logan. He wanted to run in front of the next taxi that sped across the street.

Roman was going to  _kill_  him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	2. Yellow Carnations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Roman spoke another word, Logan was certain that he would kick Roman's ass right into the pot of petunias.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: minor swearing (i.e. s***)
> 
> a/n- ahhh, thank you to everyone who gave kudos or said anything remotely kind about the first chapter of this story! i am a tad overwhelmed by how much people liked it, heh! hopefully you all like this chapter as well! the first few (i’d say four) are a bit of exposition and such, but i am really excited to really flesh out the characters and the storyline. ahh it’s going to be so much fun! but for now, enjoy this chapter, fellow readers xx

_“yellow carnations = ~~fear of~~  disappointment/rejection.”_

~*~

Logan decided to suppress the events of the morning in his mind until he knew how to handle it.

Lucky for him, the shop was filled with its normal buzz. Customers came and went, and before Logan knew it, noon-time rolled around.

He closed off the shop for a while for his break and went to the back to grab his lunch and for a split second, pondered whether or not he should pay Patton a visit.

However, he heard the door swing open, and seconds later, heard the echoes of boots walking across the floor. He inwardly groaned, and stalked out of the back room and to the cashier to see Roman, leaning over the counter coyly with his chin in his hand.

He was wearing his work-uniform — high black boots (that Logan never understood) over skinny jeans, accompanied with a navy blue, mid-sleeved polo and a long, dark red apron over it. Roman wore a small yellow crown on his pink-dyed hair as well, slightly askew.

“Greetings, Microsoft  _nerd_ ,” Roman said with a sly wink.

 _‘So that’s how we ar_ _e going to play it.’_  Logan straightened up, taking out his lunch from his bag.

“My name is Logan, we’ve already discussed this a multitude of times,” Logan hummed, slowly unwrapping his sandwich from the plastic wrap.

“Whatever, s’fine.” Roman pushed a plate across the table, catching Logan by surprise. “I need you to test-try a new item for me.”

“Is this…pie?” Logan asked. Roman nodded. “Why would you serve pie at a café? That is an odd choice for your business, as pies are a rare occurrence at cafés — why not try cookies, or shortbread?”

Roman ignored him, smiling widely. “I thought of the recipe last night when I was posting my ‘in-desperate-need-of-an-entertainer’ advertisement on the café website last night. Wanted to de-stress and what not. It’s called, wait for it, ‘Deep Shit Blueberry Pie’ — and I know, before you tell me, it’s  _genius_.”

“Why would I want to eat a pie made of feces?” Roman rolled his eyes.

“Just try it, Microsoft  _turd_ ,” Roman grumbled, brushing the hair from his eyes before pulling out a fork from his apron pocket. Logan raised an eyebrow.

“That is the same joke,” Logan said, but took the fork anyway.

“It was a variation and I can think of a Microsoft  _third_  — oh, I just did!” He smiled smugly at a rather annoyed Logan.

“You do know that one of these days, you will face a multitude lawsuits against copyright.” Roman let out a frustrated groan, throwing his head back dramatically.

“Do you want the pie or not?” Logan sighed, cutting a slice of pie with the side of his fork. He took a bite and after a few chews, gave Roman a small smile.

“Satisfactory,” he said, “actually, quite more than satisfactory. This is…extremely appetizing, Roman.”

“I know!” Roman said, stealing Logan’s fork and taking a bite for himself. “I am honestly so proud of it — it took me hours to perfect it last night. Stayed up ‘till about 3 am and woke up with pie in the face.

“That is quite…commendable,” Logan said, “and it would probably perform well in your café if you sell them for six dollars and twenty-five cents each. Perhaps make a combo deal with a cup of coffee. Could do well for kids if—”

“Noted,” Roman hummed, taking another bite, “thank you!”

Logan sighed, adjusting his tie. “However, I believe it would be more beneficial if you altered the name. I am not sure anyone—let alone kids—is going to want to consume a slice of pie that has the words ‘deep shit’ in the title.”

“It’s a  _Waitress_  reference, erlenmeyer  _trash_ ,” Roman said. He mused to himself, “It’ll do quite well with coffee, now that I think of it. ‘Coffee strong enough you can chew’ and such.”

“You cannot chew coffee,” Logan deadpanned.

“Besides the point,” Roman said, leaning against the counter with a smug grin. “Do you know why I came over here so you would be the first to taste my new pie?”

“Because you enjoy annoying me to wits end?” Logan said, taking a bite of his sandwich and walking around the store, straightening rows of gardening supplies.

He faced Roman and suddenly asked, “The saying is ‘customers shop with their eyes’, correct?” He paused, musing quietly to himself, “If they are looking for gardening equipment, it would be beneficial if I stored them more towards the back so that they would have to walk more into the store to obtain what they need. Yes, I should probably rearrange that then.”

He set his sandwich aside and began clearing a table not too far from the back of the store. Roman rolled his eyes, dully following him around the store.

“I came to you because you reminded me a lot of Jenna,” he said.

“Who’s Jenna?” Logan asked. “Do you mind grabbing some spades and following me? That would be helpful.”

Roman groaned, but took an arm-full of small spades anyway.

“From  _Waitress_ ,” Roman answered, “ **keep up, Logan**.”

The words echoed in his head for a while with a pair of dreadfully familiar voices.

Logan quickly shook them off.

“ _Apologies_ ,” he said  ~~and a wave of dejà vu washed over him.~~  “Continue on?”

“As I was saying,” Roman, much to Logan’s frustration, dumped the spades onto the surface of the table. “You remind me a lot of Jenna because, like in the musical, you’re in some  _deeeeeep shit…_ ”

Logan sighed as Roman began to laugh, his rearranging come to a brief pause. He leaned over the table, not looking at Roman.

“If you are referring to this morning, I just wanted to say that—”

“Save it, you sub- _astute_  teacher—”

“I am not a substitute teacher,” Logan interrupted, turning around to face Roman, “I am a florist and a botanist, who runs a—”

“—don’t change the subject.” Roman placed a finger on Logan’s lips. Logan pushed it down firmly, before carrying on with his rearranging. Roman circled the table.

“I saw how you were lookin’ at Mr. Specs earlier this morning,” Roman said. “If you aren’t going to grab him, then maybe I will if you know what I mean,  _rawr!”_

“He is not to be grabbed,” Logan said, “and you are not a cat.”

Roman let out a frustrated groan. “I was  _going_  for tiger…”

“Besides, Patton—”

“Oh, the angel has a name now!”

“— _Mr. Sanders’_  sexuality is unknown. Either way, I believe it would be best to keep my distance. He is a potential business partner — it would be complicated if any icky,  _romantic_  feelings were to surface.”

Roman pushed some small shovels aside and slid onto the table. Logan face-palmed, trying to keep his frustration at check.

“Come on, you pocket protractor,” Roman said. “Are you seriously telling me that you weren’t a little turned on by what appeared to be such geeky charm? I saw the way he was smiling at you — I think he digs you.”

Logan fought off a blush. “He does not ‘dig’ me in any fashion. It would be beneficial for the both of us if we remain as friends.”

Roman flashed Logan a cheeky smile. Logan face-palmed.

“For God’s sake, Roman, I am not infatuated with Patton in any kind of way.”

“ _Puh-lease_ ,” Roman exclaimed, shoving a hand in Logan’s face, pushing up his glasses. “I saw your tomato-red face from all the way across the street.”

Logan looked down, almost embarrassed. 

“…you know, the scientific name for a tomato is actually a solanum lycopersicum.”

“I stunned Mr. Nerd-a-lot, didn’t I?” Roman teased. “After all, you only use stupidly long words when you are embarrassed.”

“I am unaware of what you are talking about.” Logan walked away from Roman to open the store once more. Roman grabbed his shoulder and gently turned him around.

“You know, there’s nothing wrong with going for it.” Roman plucked a stray yellow carnation from a bouquet and grinned. “Who knows? Maybe love may  _blossom_.”

He stared at the flower Roman presented and said, “Yellow carnations, as beautiful as they may seem, give the message that of disappointment and rejection.”

Roman blinked, and quickly put the flower down. He gave Logan an apologetic glance, and Logan brushed it off  ~~because it didn’t matter, he had to get over it~~  and continued.

“And in the  _fictional_  case in which I have developed…an attraction to Patton, that is not the ideal message I would rather send.”

Roman rolled his eyes. Logan pushed up his glasses, and added, “Furthermore, is everyone in the  _pun-making_  mood?”

“Ah, is that what Sir Cardigan-clad clod’s deal is,” Roman mused. “I took a glance at his sign earlier and nearly groaned out loud.”

Logan nodded, uninterested, taking a look at the time on the clock. He sighed.

“Anyway, Roman, while I am ever-so… _enamoured_  by your presence, I feel it would be best that I go off break and re-open the shop. Business tends to peak at around 12:30 pm to 1:00 pm — perhaps the same mentality can be applied to your case.”

“Hey, Thomas can run my kingdom quite well without me,” Roman retorted.

“It’s a café,” Logan said, “and, quite frankly, anyone can run that café well without you, on the account that  _you are never actually there._ ”

Roman made an offended noise.

“You know I am only giving a half-true sardonic response,” Logan hummed.

“You are lucky I like you, nerd,” Roman huffed, pecking Logan on his cheek. Logan rolled his eyes, but smiled regardless.

“Don’t be afraid to go for it, Lo,” Roman finally said. “You can at least make him a bouquet or something. If you are too much of a wuss to go for it now, that is.”

Logan paused, his mind circling back to the yellow carnations.

 _~~when logan was nine,~~ _  
_~~he made them a flower dictionary,~~ _  
_~~filled with every flower he knew and their meanings.~~ _

_~~they read it once,~~ _  
_~~threw it back at him,~~ _  
_~~and gave him yellow carnations~~ _  
_~~every time he came second place.~~ _

_~~**they always smiled**. ~~ _

“A bouquet of yellow-tinted gardenias should satisfy your rambunctious and, quite frankly,  _inappropriate_  requests,” Logan finally said. Roman rose an eyebrow at him, and Logan blushed, saying rather defensively, “They symbolize ‘good luck’.”

He began to pick a dozen from one of the flower displays as Roman smiled smugly at him. Logan felt the pressure of coming up with a conversation, and could feel Roman staring at him.

He cleared his throat. “Did you know that gardenias were actually used in the Victorian times to—”

“—send messages of secret love to others?”

Logan paled, straightening up. “P-Pardon?”

“Yeah, don’t think I didn’t read your little book that you got me for Christmas, Mr. ‘Clash of the Tie-tans’,” Roman said smugly. “The yellow tint gave it away.”

Logan paused and blushed furiously, deciding to say nothing. Roman let out a laugh, walking out of the shop, saying behind his back, “Tell me how it goes with pun-star over there later.”

Logan stood in the middle of the shop with the flowers in his hand, pondering if he should just leave the flowers and re-open the shop.

He decided against it and sighed, closing his eyes and pushing the door open, letting the cool breeze wash over him.

 _‘Stupid Roman,’_  he thought,  _‘and stupid gardenias.’_

He stood by the door of Patton’s shop and took a deep breath before walking in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	3. Gardenias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil was a little different, Logan realized, but he also came to the conclusion that the Sanders were all a little different. Interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: none here, i believe :)
> 
> a/n- whoopsy-daisy, i’m gettin’ a lil’ overexcited ! yes i realize i posted a chapter literally yesterday and i wanted to “space things out” a bit, but i just found out that my fic was sorta nominated for “best work in progress” (how that happened, i am not entirely sure), and because it is now, like, there for other people to see, i wanted to at least slip in a few more chapters before the voting ends so it would at least look like i have a story, heh. but seriously, whoever did nominate my fic, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it’s an honour to be nominated and what not ^-^
> 
> speaking of the sander sides fic awards!! go and vote and support your favourite authors, or possibly find new favourite ones! you can find the ballot @fanders-fic-awards on tumblr, and also find out who else were nominated. there are some phenomenal writers listed, and i am just honoured to be one of ‘em :)
> 
> anywhoo, enough with that! onto the chapter ^-^

_“gardenias = ~~a secret love~~  good luck.”_ **  
**

~*~

Meanwhile, Patton was in the middle of placing new stocks of cards on the desk when his door swung open. Upon hearing the bells, he looked up and saw a familiar face.

“Virgil!” he said, walking towards him and giving his brother a big hug. “It’s so great to see you!”

Virgil squirmed in Patton’s grasp. “Loosen up, will ya?”

“Oh, sorry, kiddo!” Patton said, slowly drawing back. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“I’m not ‘kiddo’ anymore, Pat,” he grumbled, pulling his hood up. Patton grinned.

“It’s certainly better than ‘dark strange son,’ don’t you think?”

“We’re siblings, Pat,” Virgil deadpanned.

“Speaking of siblings!” Patton pulled out a card from his apron pocket. “I made you a card!”

Virgil blushed, hesitantly taking the card. “You didn’t…you didn’t have to get me a card.”

Patton shrugged. “I had some spare time today and figured I could work on a new design.”

Virgil frowned at the cover.

“You’re… _fam?_ ”

Patton giggled. “Go on, open it!”

Virgil gave him a small smile as he opened it.

“I-L-Y. I don’t—  _oh_.” Patton’s laugh rang in his ears. Virgil smiled.

“I actually quite like this one, but the colours should be pink, yellow, and blue. The ‘fam’ should be a bright red or something. Or orange. Kind of give it a fire-modern…slang kinda look.”

“Ah, that’s a good point!” Patton said. “Thank you — I’ll have to work that into the drafts.”

Patton’s eyes widened. “And speaking of drafts — I just thought of a great idea for a set of misleading compliment cards. I figured you can help me with that!”

Virgil nodded in response, and as Patton went to the cashier to scribble ideas into his notebook, his mind buzzing with new ideas. Meanwhile, Virgil walked through the store.

“You made this place look all nice and stuff,” VIrgil said, impressed. Patton looked up from his notebook and smiled proudly, crossing his arms as he walked back towards Virgil.

“Well I did as much as I could with what I had,” Patton replied. “Certainly an upgrade from all those cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling, and that old crate.”

“Which you then turned into a…less-dusty crate to hold notebooks,” Virgil said, softly tapping the crate with the edge of his foot. “Nice.”

“Recycling is very important, Virge!”

“And speaking of cobwebs,” Virgil said with a smug smile, “you still owe me fifteen bucks for cleaning out the cobwebs when you could’ve  _clearly_  done it on your own.”

“Hey, to my defence, cobwebs are home to  _spiders_ , and spiders do not go well with  _me_.” Patton circled around to the cashier and pulled out a twenty from the tray. Virgil hesitated.

“I was kidding, you know,” Virgil said, almost nervously. “I don’t want to, um, you know—”

“It’s alright, Virge!” Patton pressed it against Virgil’s chest gently. “Consider it my birthday present too or something. College kid has to make money somehow, you know!”

“I can get a job eventually,” Virgil said. He looked down at the ground and mumbled, “Thanks, Pat.”

“No problem!” Patton chirped. “Besides, there’s plenty more money to come eventually!”

“How is business here over at your horrific pun shop?” Virgil asked, sitting on the stool behind the cashier. “Anything progress?”

“Well it’s my first day, kiddo, so business was quite slow,” Patton explained, “but I did get my first customer! Hence the twenty dollar bill, heh.”

“What was the occasion?”

“He wanted a birthday one for a friend,” Patton replied. “I gave him the cactus card. ‘Hope your birthday doesn’t  _succ_ , as in, you know, succulent?” Patton giggled. “I was sort of proud of that one.”

“You could’ve done ‘hey, you’re not a  _prick_  — have a happy birthday’.”

Patton’s eyes widened.

“You…” He broke into a wide smile that made Virgil immediately regret saying anything. “You made a  _pun!_ You made a joke — gosh dang it, that  _would’ve_  been better!”

Virgil pulled his hood down over his place, grumbling to himself, “Should’ve shut up.”

“Should’ve spoke up earlier! Now I am going to have the feeling of dissatisfaction for the rest of the day,” Patton teased.

“I am telling you, business blooms now, but wait until someone is going to get a card for a funeral,” Virgil hummed, flipping through some stray cards on the counter. “You’ll be at a real stand-still then.”

“Virgil,” Patton playfully scolded.

“Anyway, did Heather come around yet?” Virgil asked. “I figured that she would come over to check on you, it being the first day and all.”

“She had work,” Patton answered. Virgil sighed, and Patton rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Virge, it’s the truth!” he protested. Virgil shook his head.

“I just figured she’d come, you know?” Virgil hesitated. “You know I am looking out for you. I told you, I honestly don’t think she’s the—”

Virgil was cut off by the sound of bells, and Patton turned around too quickly. Logan walked through the doors with a bouquet of flowers and Patton let out a silent sigh of relief. Virgil stood up and walked to Patton’s side.

“This isn’t over,” he whispered in Patton’s ear. Patton nodded, and gave Logan a big smile.

“Hiya, Logan!” Patton chirped. “Welcome to the  _Home Again, Card-igan!_ ”

Virgil groaned loudly. Logan looked around at the wooden, vintage aesthetic of the shop.

“You were right before,” he hummed, “it is a very…home-y shop.”

Patton beamed, before glancing at Virgil, who shoved his hands in his pocket. He then looked at Logan.

“Logan, I want you to meet my younger brother, Virgil!” He pushed Virgil in front of him, startling the younger boy. He blew a strand of his purple-dyed hair out of his eye. “Virgil, this is Logan; Logan Fray! He owns the flower shop beside my shop! We’re shop neighbours!”

Virgil quietly shook Logan’s hand for a brief second, before stuffing them back in his hoodie pockets.

“Nice to meet you,” he mumbled.

“Likewise.” Logan pushed up his glasses. Patton smiled.

“Well isn’t that super?” Patton said cheerily. “Anywhoo, Logan! What can I do for you?”

Logan paused, before holding up the bouquet of gardenias.

“These are for you,” Logan said. Virgil looked up at Logan briefly, and Patton covered his big smile with the palm of his hands.

“Ahhh!!! _R_ _eally?!”_  Both Logan and Virgil were almost taken aback at the sheer volume of Patton’s squeal. He lunged towards Logan to give him a hug, and Logan quickly stuck his arm to the side so that the flowers wouldn’t get squished.

“Er, thank you, Patton.”

“Virgil, be a dear and put the flowers on my desk! I am sure I have a nice vase in the back there somewhere.”

“I can look.” Virgil grabbed the flowers out of Logan’s stuck-out hand and walked towards the back with the flowers. Patton let go of Logan slowly and grinned.

“I can’t believe you got me flowers — you didn’t need to get me flowers!” Logan adjusted his tie, clearing his throat.

“They symbolize good fortune,” Logan explained. “I figured they were appropriate, given the new business and all. I hope they are adequate.”

“They are more than adequate!” Patton squealed. “They are ade- _quite_  beautiful! Thank you — I’ll have to make you the best card  _ever_  in return!”

Logan smiled half-heartedly. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I am thinking of eighteen possible flower puns right now!” Patton said, running over to the cashier to scribble stuff in his notebook. Logan’s eyes travelled to the back of the store.

“So Virgil is your younger brother?” he asked, opting to make conversation while he still had time.

“Yup! He’s two years younger than me. Though, my goodness, he’s not too much ‘younger’ anymore — he’ll be 23 in just a few weeks!” Patton sighed. “Oh, how time flies…”

“You said he was going to college not too far from here,” Logan said. “May I ask what he’s studying?”

“Music!” Patton answered rather proudly. “He’s in his third year. He mostly plays classical stuff on the piano, but I know he knows a bunch of other stuff too! He can play pretty much any instrument you give him — I think he is studying to become a music teacher one day.”

“That is quite fascinating, not to mention impressive,” Logan said. “Perhaps he can recommend classical pieces for me to play at the shop. I find classical music creates a sophisticated, yet relaxing, atmosphere. I have yet to discover one that would be best suitable for my shop.”

“I’ll ask if there are any he would recommend!” Patton sighed happily. “I am honestly so proud of him — Virge’s not the best with people and it’s been a really rough year for him, but I really think he’s starting to come out of his shell! He couldn’t have been making his older bro happier.”

A light bulb switched on in his head.

“You said Virgil could play the piano?”

“Yup!”

“Adequately?”

“More than!” Patton beamed. “He’s pretty much Mozart if Mozart was given an extra hand.”

“That’s…quite the praise. And quite the visual.” Logan shook his head. “Apologies, I once again stray further from the topic at hand. I am simply asking because my acquaintance, Roman Prince, runs the musical-themed café across the street,  _Tea and Tunes._ He mentioned that he was looking to hire a new entertainer, and I believe they have recently situated a piano on the second floor — would Virgil be interested?”

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Logan! That sounds fantastic!”

“Found that vase,” Virgil said, suddenly appearing at the entrance from the back room. Patton quickly rushed to his side, grabbing his shoulders and giving Virgil a tight squeeze. Virgil winced.

“What is it?” Virgil grumbled. “God, it’s just a vase, Pat.”

“Logan here said that there’s a job opening at the café across the street! They’re lookin’ for an entertainer, and they recently stipulated a new piano there!”

“ _Situated_ ,” Logan corrected lightly.

“Really?” Virgil asked, playing with the strings of his hoodie. “That…that doesn’t sound half bad to be honest.” He looked down and meekly added, “Though, a café has a lot of people and stuff, and you know that I don’t enjoy people.”

“You seem to tolerate my presence,” Logan said, “and…and I am people.”

Virgil seemed to find that amusing, Logan noted, given his smug smile.

“C’mon kiddo, it’ll be fun!” Patton insisted. Logan nodded.

“It is a wonderful opportunity indeed,” Logan said. “It would be good on a resumé for someone working in the musical industry, per say. Roman’s shop is filled with a good kind of buzz, so to speak, and Roman is a very generous man — I am sure whatever you need, he would be able to provide for you.”

“So?” Patton nudged Virgil softly. “What do ya say?”

Virgil looked at Patton and Logan staring at him, almost expecting him to say yes. He sighed, digging his hands further into his sweater pockets.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to check it out,” Virgil mumbled. Patton grinned.

“Fantastic!” Patton cheered.

“Satisfactory,” Logan hummed. “You may visit Roman now, if you so desire — I believe he is off his break and his working the front cashier. Tell him that I sent you, and you should probably get the job with ease.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Virgil said with a small smile. He nodded his goodbyes to Patton, who waved animatedly at him as he left the shop. Patton gave Logan one more hug.

“Thank you for giving Virge the recommendation,” Patton said in Logan’s chest as he gave him a tight squeeze. Logan gasped, sudden feeling of  _warm_  rushing through him.

He gulped. “O-Of course, Patton.”

He paused, and hesitantly slipped Patton a piece of paper with his phone number scribbled on it.

“If…” He clears his throat. “If I can be of assistance in any way, you are welcome to contact me.”

Patton’s eyes widened. “Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea! Switch numbers and such. Besides,  _this means I have a new friend!_ That is  _soooo_  exciting!”

~~Something in him broke a little upon hearing that.~~

Logan couldn’t help but smile back as Patton scribbled his number on a piece of paper from his notebook before tearing it out and handing it to Logan.

“Thank you for the flowers, Logan!” Patton chirped as Logan slowly pocketed the piece of paper. “And, once again, thank you for the recommendation you gave Virgil. I’ll make sure your first card will be absolutely  _extraordinary_!”

“A gift won’t be necessary, Patton.” Logan looked down and meekly added, “But thank you.”

Patton’s smiled, and they held each other’s stare for longer than Logan’s heart could handle. He cleared his throat and snuck a glance at his watch.

“Anyway, I should probably return to my shop,” Logan said, trying to even out his breathing. “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Patton. I shall talk to you soon.”

“You t—” Patton broke into a wide grin. “ _Likewise!_ ”

Patton decided that he would sell his whole business if it meant he could see that small smile on Logan’s face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)
> 
> (friendly spon: you can vote my fic for "best work in progress" if you'd like to, but more importantly, you can support other authors and discover new ones by going over to @fanders-fic-awards on tumblr!!! go and support and stuff :D)


	4. Hemlocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Welcome to Tea and Tunes, Dr. Gloom,” the man said. Virgil frowned.
> 
> ‘Retreat, retreat right now. You have stumbled upon a freak show, Jesus Christ, I am going to murder Patton for this…’
> 
> “...Pardon?” he said instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentions of anxiety, minor swearing
> 
> a/n- allo allo! not much i wanna say, as i wanna keep this short, but i just wanted to say thank you for reading so far and thank you for all the love. here is the next chapter as a result :)
> 
> (friendly spon: you can vote my fic for "best work in progress" if you'd like to, but more importantly, you can support other authors and discover new ones by going over to @fanders-fic-awards on tumblr!!! go and support and stuff :D)

****_"hemlocks = you will cause my death.”_

_~*~_

Virgil slowly made his way across the street without running into any issues like he thought he would—taxis were not cars, they were  _vicious machines_ —and found himself standing in front of the café with his arms crossed: T _ea and Tunes._

 _‘This is a bad idea.’_  His anxiety immediately kicked in.  _‘This is a stupid idea, actually. It’s not too late to cross back to Patton’s shop, you can say that the dude was busy — the light’s still red; people still have the decency to wait for green. You can still cross the road and pretend this never happened. Make a break for it, make a—’_

A man in a business suit pushed past him, quite literally knocking him out of his thoughts. He stumbled to the side, sighing a little before looking up once more. He brushed the man’s prints off his shoulder.

The door began to close as the man disappeared into the café. Virgil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He grabbed the handle and pulling the door open before it fully closed and bolted inside.

He was immediately greeted with  _The Little Mermaid’s_ “Part Of Your World” quietly playing in the background of the noisy café. People were sitting at tables that had single treble-clefs for legs, typing on their computers or conversing with friends. Some kids were playing around with a karaoke machine in the corner of the room. There was a spiral staircase in the centre of the room that led to more sitting space on a second floor; which had walls resembling sheet music, lined with picture frames of musical posters and magnified  _Playbill_  programs.

Virgil slowly made his way to the empty line, a steady mantra of  _‘Don’t, don’t, don’t, **what are you doing?!** Don’t, don’t, don’t”_ playing in his head. He made his way to the front counter.

“One ‘ _On My Scone_ ’ combo with two  _Fanta of the Operas!_ ” a man with pink hair yelled out near the end of the shop, gracefully sliding the plate with a scone towards a young lady on the other side of the table, along with two cans of  _Fanta_.

Virgil blinked, clearly confused, and before he could turn back, the pink-haired man did a small shuffle towards the cashier register. Upon close inspection, he noticed that the man was wearing small, slightly-askew yellow crown lying neatly on his pink-dyed hair.

The man smiled smugly upon seeing him.

“Welcome to  _Tea and Tunes_ , Dr. Gloom,” the man said. Virgil frowned.

_‘Retreat, retreat right now. You have stumbled upon a freak show, Jesus Christ, I am going to murder Patton for this…’_

“…Pardon?” he said instead.

“Figured the name was appropriate for your…darker taste of style,” the man answered.

Virgil, not sure how to respond, quietly replied, “Um, thanks.”

“Of course!” The man whipped out a black cup from the stack beside him. “Now since I’m already making assumptions, I am going to assume you want a  _Black Cauldron?_ ”

Virgil blinked. “What?”

“A  _Black Cauldron_ ,” the man said once more. He teased, “MCR music a little too loud in the headphones, is it?”

Virgil suddenly realized that his headphones, while they weren’t playing any music, were still on his ears. He silently scolded himself and pushed them down around his neck.

“No, I…I heard you.” He frowned. “And I don’t want coffee. I…”

Virgil trailed off, palms beginning to sweat. How many seconds had already passed by? He could feel the pink-haired man’s eyes staring straight through him.

He took a deep breath and mumbled, “By any chance do you know if I can speak to a…Roman Prince?”

“I am he!” the man cheered, raising his arms in the air in a regal position, cup still in hand. Virgil’s eyes widened. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your special visit? An autograph? A photo? Perhaps a choreographed dance ready by tomorrow? Oh, I already have so many ideas, I can—”

“No, none of that is, um, necessary.” Virgil shuffled quietly in his spot. “I am actually hear because Logan Fray, a friend of my brother’s, said that you were looking for an entertainer?”

The man’s— _Roman’s_ —eyes lit up  ~~like Broadway sign lights~~.

“Ah, splendid!” Roman cheered, startling Virgil slightly. “You don’t even have to say anything —  _you’re hired!_  Actually, wait, hold on — what’s your style?”

Virgil frowned.

“Style?” he echoed.

“Yes,  _style!_ ” Roman leaned over the counter with a smug smile that sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. “What is your taste? Do you fancy some jazz music? Are you a Seb? Or— oh, goodness, you’re part of a rock band aren’t you?” Roman sighed. “Eh, that’s fine — I am desperate, so I suppose I can be open to the idea of screamo Disney songs…”

Virgil blushed. “Um, no screamo here. I promise.”

Roman let out a sigh of relief. “Thank  _fuck_.”

Virgil shyly smiled. “I, um, actually play the piano. Well, I can play a lot of instruments, but I mostly dabble,”—He quietly scolded himself;  _dabble?_ —“in piano. I am actually studying music over at Royal Guardian of Performing Arts a few blocks down. I can play loads of compositions, but I am mostly studying classical music.”

“Fantastic! Dr. Bloom over there must’ve told you that we’ve recently bought an ivory piano for the second floor!” Roman said eagerly. Virgil nodded slowly in agreement, trying not to look confused.

“Can you play sheet music?”

“If you give me five minutes to look at it beforehand, then yeah, sure.”

“Brilliant!” Roman extended a hand over the counter. “Then you are  _officially_  hired!”

Virgil looked at Roman’s hand, almost surprised.

“I…really? You don’t even know my name — you haven’t even told me what I have to do.”

“You just have to show up in your dark and stormy outfit,”—Virgil blushed—“and play some music! Maybe I can print out sheet music to match the Broadway-slash-musical-slash Disney aesthetic that has graced our walls.”

“…Right.” Virgil hesitantly shook Roman’s hand. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Not a problem!” Roman smiled widely. “We can discuss more details once I get you a _Black Cauldron_  in your system.”

“I still have no clue what that is,” Virgil said as Roman began scribbling words on the black cup he was holding.

“A black coffee,” Roman said. “I always assume people of your…sort need a black coffee to match the aesthetic.”

Virgil looked down at his black and dark purple hoodie and stuffed his hands in his pocket, suddenly a bit self-conscious.

“My name is Virgil Sanders,” he said, “and I promise I can wear something nicer than a hoodie.”

Roman smiled. “Not a problem; in all honesty, the hoodie is quite entici— wait, did you say  _Sanders?_ ”

Virgil nodded. Roman furrowed his eyebrows.

“Is…is your brother’s name Patton?”

“Yeah,” Virgil answered. “He just opened the gift shop across the street. The one with the puns and stuff — I’d be surprised if you haven’t heard of it from Logan at least, if you two are really friends.”

“And you said calculator watch—  _Logan_  directed you here?”

“Yup.”

Roman’s eyes twinkled and he smiled smugly. “So that’s how he wants to play it, eh?”

Virgil blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.” Roman smiled brightly at Virgil. “Now go to the counter over there — I’ll whip you the best _Black Cauldron_ ever, and we can discuss some more stuff in the back. I’ll have to make you a name-tag…maybe black-embroidered jewels lining the edge or something…”

Roman continued to murmur ideas to himself and left before Virgil could even pull out his wallet. He sighed and walked over to the counter, sitting on some of the stools. He hadn’t even noticed that his heart had been racing the entire time.

 _‘What the hell did I drag myself into,’_ he thought, his eyes travelling to the winding staircase in the centre of the café. From where he sat, he could see a glimpse of an ivory piano through the glass barriers around the open-layout second floor.

The song changes into something from  _Heathers_ , which Virgil began to quietly hum along to to ease his sudden rush of fear. His leg was anxiously bouncing against the leg of the stool.

A drink slid across the counter a few minutes after. He blinked, startled by the rush, and grabbed it before it could spill anywhere. He looked up and saw Roman’s bright smile that almost physically  _hurt_ to look at.

His heart began racing once more.

“One  _Black Cauldron_  for My Chemically-Imbalanced Romance.” Roman circled around the counter and grabbed Virgil’s arm. Virgil froze as Roman gave him a flashy smile.

“Let’s go, shall we?”

Virgil tried not to look as embarrassed under his hood.

 _‘Yeah,’_ he decided,  _‘If I am not dead by the end of this, then I’m really going to kill Patton for this.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	5. Azaleas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dropping by at Patton’s shop, Logan managed to stumble back into his own shop, hastily flipping the “open” side to face the outside.
> 
> He loosened his tie with one hand as he marched towards the cashier. His heart was racing at an irregular pace and his skin felt as if it was on fire.
> 
> ‘What on Earth is my…my predicament?’ Logan thought to himself, tapping his fingers frantically against the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: none, i believe :)
> 
> a/n- hello! here is where things start to pick up (finally, heh). i know i have been updating really quickly, but it’s only because exam season is comin’ up soon. once that kicks in, you’ll probably see a drastic drop (jkjk — i promise i’ll at least try :P). 
> 
> thank you to anyone who’s been reading so far! i hope you enjoy this, friendos xx
> 
> (friendly spon: you can vote my fic for “best work in progress” if you’d like to, but more importantly, you can support other authors and discover new ones by going over to @fanders-fic-awards on tumblr! go and support and stuff :D)

_“azaleas = ‘your blush has won me over.’ dammit.” **  
**_

_~*~_

After dropping by at Patton’s shop, Logan managed to stumble back into his own shop, hastily flipping the “open” side to face the outside.

He loosened his tie with one hand as he marched towards the cashier. His heart was racing at an irregular pace and his skin felt as if it was on fire.

 _‘What on Earth is my…my predicament?’_  Logan thought to himself, tapping his fingers frantically against the counter.

_~~this is why you don’t get attached to people.  
this is why you just work instead.~~ _

Logan shook the thought out of his head. While part of him knew that the previous thoughts were illogical and irrational, another part of him knew that his productivity would be compromise due to his new-found attachment to Patton.

He frowned. Why did this sensation feel so foreign to him? Was he really that  ~~much of a robot, like they told him he was?~~  inexperienced?

Logan blinked. The thoughts seemed more recurring than ever, given the current situation. He sighed, evening out his breathing — he could discuss this with Roman at a later time.

The door suddenly swung open, and Logan let out a small sigh of relief — a  _distraction_. It’s just what he needed. Upon seeing who walked into the shop, Logan flashed a small smile.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Harrington,” Logan said politely. The old woman batted her hand at Logan with a grin, walking towards Logan with her cane in one hand a basket hung around her other.

“Logan, dearest, what did I tell you?” She waved her cane at Logan playfully. “Esmeralda is just fine. Or Ezzie — my granddaughter said it was an ‘edgy’ nickname.”

“A name does not have an existing edge. A name is not an object, therefore does not have an outside limit, Mrs. Harrington.”

Esmeralda laughed. “You make feel old with that silly name, boy. And then you make me feel even dumber with your…scientific remarks.”

Logan didn’t want to mention that his previous statement had nothing to do with science.

“Nonsense, Mrs. Harrington,” Logan replied instead. “It is proper to address such a fine woman with well-deserved respect.”

“Oh my goodness, you are good at business,” Esmeralda joked, “if you want me to buy another packet of seeds, you should just tell me straight away.”

The comment stung a bit, but Logan brushed it off.

“Falsehood,” he said, pushing up his glasses. “If you were to buy anything, it should be one of the many gardening supplies on display. They are 25% off.”

Esmeralda’s laugh rang in his ears like quiet bells, allowing the tension in Logan’s shoulders to dissipate. He smiled—one that he felt was more genuine this time—and leaned over the cashier table, with his arms folded neatly against the counter.

“Anyway, how may I be of assistance today, Mrs. Harrington?” he asked. The old woman sighed, looking around the shop with a small smile.

“My, my, your flowers are blooming, dear.” Logan couldn’t help but beam proudly upon hearing that. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you had anything for a last-minute Christmas bouquet? My dearest niece, Angelica, is coming to town. I was in town to buy cooking supplies, and I figured that it would be just lovely if I accompanied the festive cookies with some festive flowers from my favourite florist.”

“You flatter me, Mrs. Harrington,” Logan said, “although there are a multitude of influential florists that are far more remarkable florists whose works with flowers and plants have exceeded and disproven the common limitations set for this industry; such as Banchet Jaigla, Gregor Lersch, or—”

“Oh hush, Logan!” Esmeralda exclaimed. “You know you are my go-to because you are a  _brilliant_  man.”

 _‘She might as well pinch my cheeks and call me “grandson”,’_ Logan thought to himself with a small smile.

“And you certainly know your way around flowers,” Esmeralda continued, “so do you have anythin’ good?”

Logan thought about it for a moment, before walking around the counter and walking along the walls filled with bouquets and hanging flower pots.

“I heard Christmas cacti are rather cute-looking,” Esmeralda said as Logan briskly passed by her. “Do you have any of those?”

“How old is your niece, Mrs. Harrington?” he asked, eyes fixated on the plants surrounding him. He adjusted the leaf of one plant as he spoke. Esmeralda slowly trailed behind him.

“She’s nine, dear.”

Logan hummed, “Then perhaps it would be inadequate to gift her a  _schlumbergera bridgesii_ ; a Christmas cactus. Whilst it is a beautiful—not to mention fascinating—plant that originated in the coastal mountains of south-eastern Brazil, it is quite difficult to care for without proper experience.”

He turned a corner of his shop and then walked along the opposite wall, an idea popping in his head. Logan walked along the rows of plants before stopping abruptly near a particular bouquet. Esmeralda watched carefully as he plucked twelve from their display pot.

“Furthermore, a Christmas cactus’ flowers take a significantly longer time to bloom; especially in the dryer, hotter seasons. Children are rather enticed by flowers that are already bloomed, therefore,”—He presents the bouquet to Esmeralda, who was beaming widely—“might I suggest a bouquet of poinsettias. They have a potential life-span of about two years, are considered a traditional holiday flower, and are quite tasteful in design. I believe they may appeal to your niece due to its vibrant colour and the…sparkles that coat the flowers. An…annual Christmas tradition, I hear.”

Esmeralda grinned, taking the bouquet and holding it close to her chest. “Oh Logan, dear, thank you so much! Angelica is going to be so happy.”

“I would hope so,” Logan said with a smile. “Poinsettias are quite rare at this time due to high sales in December, so I am pleased that I had some left. Twelve to be exact; one for each of the twelve days of Christmas.”

“You are so thoughtful, Logan. Such a bright, young man.” She actually pinched his cheeks, much to his surprise. He shyly smiled, hunching over to match her height.

“If you so desire, I can wrap the bouquet,” Logan said. “I believe I may have some rosemary in the back, which I can wrap into the bouquet as well; free of charge, of course.”

“Logan, dear, don’t go throwing away rosemary for free — you know I will pay whatever fee you have. I don’t mind, honestly.”

Logan smiled. “My deepest gratitude, Mrs. Harrington. However, I believe there is a small tear in one of the rosemary leaves, as they are leftovers from previous purchases. The rosemary leaves shall, therefore, be free of charge — I would not sell rosemary that I do not deem fit to be for purchase.”

“All you have to say is ‘I love you, Esmeralda, that’s why’,” Esmeralda teased as Logan went into the back. “You are the best, dear.”

Logan did his best to hide his blush as he sorted through the boxes of newly-purchased rosemary.

“Likewise, Mrs. Harrington,” he said. He grabbed a handful of rosemary leaves and went to the counter, taking the bouquet from Mrs. Harrington.

As he began to wrap the rosemary around the stems of the poinsettia, he said, “Did you know that while the rosemary plant is a lesser known holiday plant, it was part of the Nativity story in that Baby Jesus’ clothes were dried on a rosemary bush. People celebrating Christianity often believe that smelling rosemary at Christmas brings good luck for the forecoming year.”

“It is truly remarkable how much you know about plants, Logan,” Esmeralda noted as she fished for her wallet in her purse. Logan smiled.

“I would hope I have retained at least some information from my post-secondary education — I suppose I went to university for good reason,” Logan replied. Esmeralda smiled.

“In all honesty, I had no idea there was so much meaning behind flowers!” Esmeralda slipped a few bills across the counter as Logan calculated the change. “All I knew about poinsettias were that they were found in Central America or somethin’.”

“Actually, they are native to Central America, but more specifically in an area of southern Mexico,” Logan lightly corrected, pushing the change across the table. Esmeralda slid it back with a wink, and Logan, not wanting to argue, gratefully took the change with a smile.

“Of course they are,” Esmeralda said. She took the bouquet and put it in her basket, before turning around, ready to leave.

Logan’s mind suddenly remembered the events of this morning.

_‘Fleece Navidad.’_

“Mrs. Harrington?” The old woman turned around. Logan’s breath hitched, and he suddenly became nervous. He pushed up his glasses and tried to remain calm and collected.

“Your niece may appreciate a card with her bouquet,” Logan began slowly. “Might I recommend the store that has recently opened,  _Home Again,_ _Card-igan._  The store is exactly what the name implies — a gift shop that prides itself in speciality cards involving…humorous word-play.”

Esmeralda’s eyebrows rose. Logan cleared his throat, continuing.

“Perhaps it may be of interest to your young niece. I was conversing with the owner this morning, Patton Sanders, who was discussing ideas for last-minute Christmas cards. Perhaps he has already finalized his decision on the design and has put the card up for sale. I believe he— it would be worth checking out.”

The old woman looked at Logan with an indescribable look— _curiosity?_ —and for a split second, she almost seemed smug. Logan frowned, and Esmeralda broke into a smile.

“Oh my, that is a good idea!” she chuckled, “Angelica always loved to make me laugh with silly puns — I’ll be sure to have a look! Thank you, Logan!”

“Good day, Mrs. Harrington,” Logan said. “Be sure to send my holiday greetings to Angelica.”

And with that, Esmeralda left the shop as a younger couple entered. Logan smiled to himself, secretly hoping for the best.

His head felt a bit lighter — perhaps Esmeralda was truly all he needed.

“Hello!” he said, a little more happier and light-hearted— _more alive_ —than before. “Welcome to Aster’s. Is there any way I may be of assistance? We currently have an ongoing 25% sale off all gardening supplies…”

* * *

A few days after, Logan heard the door swing wide open and was greeted with Patton’s beaming face. His heart began to race.

“Logan!” Patton exclaimed, quickly rushing towards the front counter. Logan flashed a smile.

“Greetings, Patton,” he said. “I cannot help but notice that you are visiting at an irregular time for your usual schedule. You have visited earlier today — are you taking another break?”

“Sort of!” Patton replied, taking the pen out from behind his ear and sliding it across the surface of the counter. “I’m taking a break not because of schedule, but because I am so  _tired!_ ”

Logan frowned. “Well,  that doesn’t seem very efficient, to leave your store unatten—”

“Let me finish, mister,” Patton teased. Logan fought off an oncoming blush. “I haven’t taken a break in _six hours!_ ”

“P-Pardon?” Logan stammered. He pushed his glasses up. “Well that does not make sense. You open at 9 am, your break is at 12 pm precisely, you visit me at 12:10 pm, though you visited me today at 12:27 pm for five minutes shorter than as per usual because— my God, you’ve been working all this time?”

“Bingo, dingo!”

“My name is Logan. I am not a di—”

“Anyway,” Patton cut him off, “I just dropped by because I needed a break for a while. It’s usually a bit odd for me, as I consider myself married to my job and all—”

“Did…did you not just start last Monday?”

“—but I figured I needed the break after all those people came over!” Patton said. “Goodness, Esmeralda really doesn’t lie, huh?”

“I mean, I suppose a break would be necessary for that many— wait, did you say  _Esmeralda?_ ”

Patton nodded vigorously. “She is honestly such a sweet woman! She said that you were the one who recommended my store to her — which I ‘ought to say, was a really sweet gesture, Lo!”

“My name is Logan,” he said again, but with more difficulty. Hearing Patton’s happy voice towards him made his heart swell up once more.

“Logan, you honestly did me a huge favour,” Patton continued. “Apparently she told her whole  _book club_  about my lil’ shop! Isn’t that amazing?!”

“That’s truly…something,” Logan said slowly, not resisting the urge to smile — that sounded like something Mrs. Harrington would do.

“I’ve been getting every old lady in this town into my small shop, along with their sons and daughters, and granddaughters and grandsons, and great-granddaughters and great-grandsons, and—”

“Yes, I believe I get the gist.” Logan adjusted his tie. “Well, Patton, I am…content that I was able to help you in any minor way.”

“Minor?!” Patton exclaimed. “No, Logan! You helped me in a pretty major way!”

“I-I…I did?” Logan stammered.

“Of course, kiddo!”

“I’m 24, Patton.”

“Still!” Patton said happily, and all Logan could imagine was rainbows and butterflies to be circling around his head. “Logan, this is the most amount of customers I have ever gotten in one day!”

He went around the counter and towards Logan’s side, tackling the young florist in a tight hug. Logan’s eyes widened, but he eventually patted the side of Patton’s arm softly. His cheeks flushed red.

“I really appreciate it your help, Logan,” Patton said, his words muffled in Logan’s shoulder. Logan’s breath hitched upon seeing the red blush of Patton’s cheeks and upon feeling the warmth of Patton’s breath.

“Um, no problem at all, Patton,” Logan managed to say as Patton let go. He pushed his glasses up shakily. “I previously mentioned that I wished to work with you in the future. You’ve been nothing but nice to me since then, so it is only proper that I return the favour.”

Patton’s hands flew to his mouth, and for a split second, Logan swore he did something wrong what did he do this time?. However, Patton just let out a muffled squeal.

“Aww, Logan!” He sniffled. “You’re going to make me cry!”

“I, um, apologize,” Logan said. “My intention was to fill you with a sense of fulfillment, not to make you upset.”

“Happy tears, Lo!” Patton beamed. “You are honestly the sweetest thing.”

Patton winked. “And trust me, you’ll be getting a lot of people you’re way as well!”

Logan frowned, crossing his arms. “I am confused.”

“I met this sweet lady, Linda, who was looking for custom-made wedding invitations and I think they are looking for a florist!” Logan exclaimed. “I, of course, recommended you! She seemed surprised at first, but I think she’s going to stop by tomorrow or something!”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Linda, you say?”

“Yup!”

“Linda Créton,” Logan mused aloud. He crossed his arms. “My God, how did you please a woman like her?”

“What do you mean?” Patton asked.

“She is the most high-maintenance woman in this town,” Logan explained. “I helped with the flower arrangements for her cousin’s champagne party a few months earlier, and while Linda is a valuable business-partner, I figured I would never get the chance to work with her again, as she found me quite…distasteful.”

“Distasteful?” Patton echoed.

~~_Yes, she thought I was a cold, heartless robot._ ~~

“She simply did not agree with any of my choices,” he said instead. “I figured I could never win her over, but I am simply perplexed—and beyond curious—how your…puns softened her.”

“Huh,” Patton said. “Maybe that’s why she didn’t laugh at the pun the first time. But when I showed her some samples, she sort of turned into this…this big baby-lady.”

Logan found it hard to stifle his laugh behind his hand.

“Yeah, she pretty much melted upon seeing ‘em,” Patton continued. “She’s picking them up tomorrow, and I told her that she should see you for flower arrangements. She mentioned working with you before — said something about ‘giving you another shot’.”

“Patton, that is certainly—” He realized his voice was starting to get loud. He blushed meekly, clearing his throat. “That is good news. I…I thoroughly appreciate the recommendation.”

“Not a problem, kiddo!”

“Again, my name is Logan—”

“Anyway, kiddo,” Patton said, “I wanted to thank you for helping me out, so I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner later?”

If it was possible, Logan would be choking on air.

“P-Pardon?”

“Patton!”

SIlence. Patton blushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sort of wanted to hop aboard on the, um, alliteration station,” Patton explained meekly. Logan nodded, letting out a soft “ah” and Patton continued.

“Anyway, yeah! What do you say to dinner?” Patton leaned over the counter and  _winked_. “On me?”

Logan was  _very_  close to choking on air.

His heart began to race —  _God_ , how embarrassing it would’ve been for him if Patton knew what dilated pupils meant.

“Lo?” Patton’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts — how long had he been quiet? “You good? Or are you just thinking about where to have dinner? Either way, you’re sort of, heh, starting to freak me out, kiddo.”

Patton’s rosy cheeks may as well be the end of Logan.

Logan opened his mouth to speak before the a familiar voice at the door spoke for him.

“Greetings, wonderful citizens,” Roman exclaimed, before glaring at Logan and adding, “and you, nerd!”

“Hi,” Logan said flatly.

“Hey!” Patton said, waving animatedly. Roman rose an eyebrow smugly.

“Well you’re a new face, aren’t you?”

“That is Patton’s normal face, Roman, nothing new about that.”

“Hush, four-eyes.” Roman circled Patton before extending a hand forward and flashing a wide grin. Logan rolled his eyes.

“So you’re the infamous Patton, eh?” Logan nearly face-palmed.

“Yup!” Patton chirped, oblivious to Logan’s frustrated. “That’s me!”

“The name’s Roman Prince, and the number’s 647-123-1832,” Roman said with a wink. Logan groaned, pushing down Patton’s arm before he could shake Roman’s hand.

“Ignore him, Patton,” Logan grumbled. “He’s nothing but an outrageous  _fool_.”

Roman made an offended noise. “Alright, King Tie-tan, no need to tarnish my good first impression.”

“The only thing tarnished is your shoes,” Logan retorted, and Roman gasped loudly, immediately kneeling to wipe his boots with the hem of his sleeve. Patton grinned.

“Wow, teach, you really  _schooled_  him!”

“I am not a teacher,” Logan said, “I am a florist. I work with flowers.”

“Well if you work with flowers, I guess you’re the king of flowers, am I right?” Patton said, his voice edging on excitement. Logan frowned.

“You don’t work with flowers per say, as there is no monarchy in flowers; they do not follow any kind of social class—”

“Some might say you  _rose_  to power!” Patton grinned, and Roman stifled a laugh from the bottom of the floor. Logan rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he said, directly at Roman. He stood up once more and brushed the dust off his shoulders.

“Anyway, ignoring Mr. Pleated Pants over there,”—Logan subconsciously smoothed his pants—“What’s a young man like you doing with such a big business? That’s really impressive for your age.”

Logan wanted to punch Roman square in the face — especially considering Roman  _knew_  that he was pissing Logan off.

Patton blushed, and it sent shocks through Logan’s body.

“I’m actually 26,” he said meekly. Roman smirked.

“Didn’t look like it, doll-face.” He nudged Logan. “You know, my friend over here is actually 24.”

He winked, and Logan looked mortified.

“Roman!”

“What?”

Logan sighed, pushing up his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Roman rolled his eyes at Logan and faced Patton once more.

“Question still stands, sweet pea,” Roman said smoothly. Logan buried his face in his hands.

“You do not need to tolerate his questions if you do not wish to speak, Patton.” Logan glared at Roman. “Rest assured,  _no one does._ ”

Roman stuck a hand in front of Logan’s face, and Logan stuck out his tongue.  Patton rubbed the back of his neck, a bit embarrassed.

“Aw, shucks, I don’t mind, Lo! ”

“Logan.”

“Anyway,” Patton said, “the business itself was my idea, but I, of course, had a rocky time in the beginning. Luckily, Heather was able to help kick-start the whole business! I don’t rely on her for funding as much now—I try not to anyway—as business is, ya know,  _bloomin’!_ ”

Roman frowned. “Woah, specs, rewind — who’s Heather?”

This seemed to catch Logan’s attention.

“Oh, right! Sorry!” Patton smiled. “Heather is my girlfriend!”

Logan blinked, and felt as if the walls slammed into him. If Roman was disappointed, he did his best not to show it. Logan thickly swallowed.

“Ah, you have a significant other,” he managed to say. He could feel Roman’s stare drill through him. Patton nodded, oblivious to the sudden tension in the shop.

“Yup! Heather’s been my snuggle-bunny for about nine years now.” Roman’s eyes widened.

“Nine…nine years?”

“Yes-sir-ee!” Logan tried not to look hopelessly crushed — why was he so upset? “We met late into senior year, but went to the same college together! She’s just the loveliest person.”

Logan’s fingers quietly tapped against the counter. “Right. That sounds…lovely, Patton.”

“Lo—” Roman began, but a sharp glare from Logan shut him up. Patton’s eyes widened.

“Oh, shine-a-light,” Patton muttered under his breath, banging his head against the palm of his hands comically, “that just reminds me. I am so sorry, Lo, but I totally have dinner plans with Heather tonight.”

He looked at Logan hopefully. “Raincheck?”

Logan tried not to look as if the world was ending around him.

“Perhaps,” he said. Patton broke into a wide smile.

“Fantastic!” Patton said. “I guess I’ll  _check_  on ya later!”

Silence.

“Like…like rain check?” Patton pressed. Logan forced a smile.

“Right,” he said once more. “Anyway, I best be getting back to work now.”

“Yeah, me too!” Patton said, making his way to the door. “It was nice meetin’ ya, Roman! I’ll text you later, Logan — I owe you a date!”

The door slammed swiftly shut, and Roman looked at Logan apologetically.

“Logan, I—”

“It’s fine, Roman.” Logan went back to the cashier and began to flip through the stray flower catalogue on the counter.

“But—”

“There is no issue to talk about,” Logan snapped. Roman sighed.

“I know when you’re lying, Lo.”

Logan looked up at Roman briefly, before burying his face in the catalogue once more. Roman sighed, muttering, “I’m going to return later, and we’re going to  _talk_.”

When the door swung closed once more, Logan felt an unexpected tear slip from his cheek.

Why did that make Logan’s heart break? He wasn’t sure. He had only known Patton for a few days, but everything about him—

_his smile._  
_his eyes._  
_his voice._  
_his laugh._  
_his **blush**._

Logan froze, halfway through turning the page.

He was…smitten. Absolutely smitten. He nearly cursed himself — how could Patton had won him over so easily, in the span of a few days?

 _‘Doesn’t matter,’_  Logan thought bitterly,  ~~and for a split second, he swore he could hear their voice,~~  " ** _You lost."_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	6. Yellow Hyacinths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was thing Logan valued in Roman, it would be that he always remained true to his word.
> 
> He claimed that it was a valiant and very prince-ly thing, whatever that meant; however, Logan knew that the only correct reason would be that because Roman was an excellent friend.
> 
> However, today he decided that he actually hated that part of Roman.
> 
> Because when Roman strolled into the shop at precisely 8 pm, Logan immediately regretted not closing up earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: minor swearing
> 
> a/n- hello! school has finally hit me with The Stress™️ i anticipated! though i am luckily prepared for it so hopefully it doesn’t hinder my updating schedule (like i have one) too much :P anywhoo this chapter was so much fun to write!! and i hope you all enjoy it!! :D
> 
> (friendly spon: you can vote my fic for “best work in progress” if you’d like to, but more importantly, you can support other authors and discover new ones by going over to @fanders-fic-awards on tumblr! i believe today is the last day to vote so go and support and stuff :D)

****_"yellow hyacinths = jealousy. ~~for no reason whatsoever.~~ "_

_~*~_

If there was thing Logan valued in Roman, it would be that he always remained true to his word.

He claimed that it was a valiant and very  _prince_ - _ly_  thing, whatever that meant; however, Logan knew that the only correct reason would be that because Roman was an excellent friend.

However, today he decided that he actually  _hated_  that part of Roman.

Because when Roman strolled into the shop at precisely 8 pm, Logan immediately regretted not closing up earlier. Roman pulled up a stool that was close to a wall and pulled it towards the front counter.

He leaned over the counter, giving Logan that look— _that damn look_ —and Logan sighed, walking around the counter and towards the door.

“Go home, Roman,” he said as he flipped over the ‘closed’ side of the sign.

“You already closed the shop,” Roman retorted, “how am I to leave?”

Logan groaned, pushing up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. Roman sighed, spinning around on the stool to face Logan, who was staring through the glass door.

“Logan, buddy, you know what the rule is,” Roman said.

“The rule does not apply in this case, Roman,” Logan finally said. “There is no issue to be discussed because I already aware of your concerns and I can provide the answers, which go as followed: my mental health is not compromised because Patton has a significant other, I do not like Patton in a romantic sense, nor will I ever. Therefore,  _that is the end of the discussion._ ”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “See? The rule is deemed unnecessary and so  _you can go home.”_

Roman sighed sympathetically. “I am not accusing you of having any feelings towards Pun-ny McSpecs over there, Logan. I am simply here because I believe you were upset about  _something_. I don’t know if it was because of Patton, or if it was because of something else…?”

Logan stared at Roman and when he was faced with  _that look_  again, he gently tossed his glasses onto the counter and massaged his temple with his hands.

“No, Roman, I am not upset about… _that_ , if that is what you are implying,” Logan said ~~, even if that is probably a fair assumption, who was he kidding~~. Roman’s face immediately fell.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said quickly. “You know I am just asking out of concern. It has been a while since you’ve mentioned them, and I just figured—”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Roman,” Logan said, giving Roman a tired smile. “You know I do am truly thankful your concern. However, there is no need to apologize. There was no harm done.”

Silence.

“Are you upset that Patton is unavailable?” Roman asked. Before Logan opened his mouth to deny it, Roman said added, “And don’t try to rationalize it or anything — just think about what you feel when you see him. You have to think with your heart, not your brain.”

“The brain does all the thinking and controls all cognitive functions, Roman,” Logan said.

“I mean—” Roman sighed. “Metaphorically,  _Marilyn Morose._ ”

Logan fought the urge to say that it was actually  _Marilyn Monroe_ , and instead remained quiet, evaluating his past actions.

 _heart racing._  
_elevated pulse._  
_dilated pupils._  
_uncontrollable blushing._  
_trouble speaking._  
_irrational thinking._  
_~~stupid blushing.~~_  
_irrational._  
_illogical._  
_~~this is illogical behaviour.~~_

“It’s like watching  _Sherlock_  or something,” Roman mused aloud, snapping Logan out of his thoughts. “Come on, Irene Adler — you have to had deduced it by now.”

“I…” Logan trailed off. What was he to say? That he was enamoured by the joy that was held Patton’s hazel eyes, and that Patton’s rosy cheeks made him want to cry? That he hated Patton’s taste in humour but found his taste in clothes endearing? That even the first part of the previous statement was false?

Roman let out a sigh, and stood up to stand next to Logan. It was only then that Logan realized there was a slight tremble in his hands, and the feeling of  _wet_  on his cheeks. 

Roman wrapped his arms around Logan’s waist, resting his head in the crook of Logan’s shoulder. Logan loosened his tie, everything suddenly feeling  _tight_.

_~~‘This is abnormal behaviour,  
what the  **fuck**  are you doing?!’~~ _

“It’s normal,  _Teen Tie-tan._ ” Logan wiped the tears with the back of his hand before they could fall  ~~because crying was illogical.~~

“I am well above the age limit of an adolescent.” Logan sighed. “And it is. Abnormal, I mean. I have only known Patton for a few days — all feelings of romance are typically developed over the course of a few months, maybe even years.”

“Hate to break it to you pal, but that’s not really how the heart likes to think.”

Logan was unsure of what strange phenomenon he was experiencing, but with every word that came out of Roman’s mouth, tears just made their way down his cheeks.

“I…I believe my body is betraying me.” Logan sniffled loudly, trying to compose himself. “These tears are illogical — this is  _extremely_  illogical, Roman. These are not my emotions— _I do not entertain myself with emotions—_ so…”

Logan trailed off, hesitantly finishing, “So why do I feel… _so much_ , for what is merely a hypothetical situation?”

Roman hopped onto the counter, swinging his feet softly back and forth.

“Hey dork, have you ever heard of love at first sight?”

“You know that is extremely illogical thinking, Roman.”

“Love isn’t exactly a logical thing,” Roman retorted. Logan sighed.

“I…I suppose I concede,” Logan said hesitantly. “It’s just that…it is highly abnormal that someone like  _me_  can succumb to that kind of emotional state of being. Love is not exactly my forté, Roman.”

“It isn’t really anyone’s forté,” Roman said, “but we all experience it without…experience, so to speak. Every relationship is a new one, and every relationship is a  _different_  one.”

“But I have not had a relationship, nor do I intend on beginning one anytime soon. I don’t deserve love.”

The last part slipped out, and Logan immediately took the words back when he saw Roman’s face fall.

“Of course you deserve love, Logan,” Roman said quietly, “because love makes someone… _happy_. And you out of all people deserve to be happy.”

Logan knew what was being striked out in his mind.

If Roman knew  
(which he obviously did),  
he did his best not to give  _it_  any more attention.

Roman cleared his throat. “I’m saying that you’ve never had a  _romantic_  relationship. Nor have you ever had romantic  _feelings_  for someone else.”

~~_‘I should not be feeling at all,’_ Logan thought _._~~

“You’ve had plenty of relationships before. You and I, by definition, are in a platonic relationship. You have a relationship with Mrs. Harrington, with your parents, with your—”

Roman stopped abruptly, the look of what Logan could only describe as  _remorse_  washing over his face. Logan sighed.

“You are not incorrect,” Logan said. “I do technically have a relationship with all of those you mentioned.”

Roman tried not to look guilty, but  ~~Logan knew what the last part of his sentence was, and he had a feeling Roman did as well.~~  Logan knew that he was. He brushed it off regardless.

“I’m just saying,” Roman continued. “You have a different relationship with everyone. This attraction to Patton is just simply a new adventure to embark on.”

“I do not have an attraction to Patton,” Logan said, suddenly feeling stupid.  ~~This was stupid.~~

“You do not have a  _romantic_  attraction to Patton,” Roman lightly corrected. He sighed dreamily. 

“But you like him! I can see an iridescent twinkle in your eyes whenever you speak to him. You light up like a Christmas tree.”

Logan couldn’t help but blush.

“And if, for now, you cannot have Patton in the way your heart so desires, you may have Patton in a different way. A friendship, per say.”

“My heart does not desire to ‘have Patton’ so to speak,” Logan said.

“Your heart can’t talk, Logan,” Roman said, “but your mind can. Consider that before assuming what your heart does and does not desire.”

Logan blinked.

“That was…astute.”

Roman broke into a proud smile. “I know.”

“And you used the word ’iridescent’ earlier,” Logan hummed, crossing his arms. “You are on a clever streak today, which is unusual for you.”

“I kno—  _hey!”_  Roman huffed. “I can be on a clever streak.”

Logan smiled. “Thank you, Roman. Sincerely.”

“No problem, my dude,” Roman said in response. “See what happens when you follow the rule?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I suppose I can concede to that as well.”

Roman grinned as Logan slowly took off his apron and hung it over the stool behind the counter. Roman hopped off the counter and leaned against it.

“Since were are conceding a lot to me today,” Roman said, “may I ask you about Heather?”

Logan frowned. “Pardon?” 

“Heather,” Roman repeated once more. “Patton’s girlfriend-Heather?”

“…Right.” Roman sighed.

“I know this is going to be really difficult to accept,” Roman began, “and you’re probably going to deny the hell out of this, but…but you have to promise to be nice to her as well.”

“What do you mean?” Logan said. “I…just because I may have had… _some_ —very  _minimal_ —feelings for Patton,”  ~~(Which was a lie, even he knew that)~~  “that does not mean I shall hold some kind of… _grudge_ towards Heather. If she makes him happy, that’s all that matters…”

_~~‘Don’t you wish you can make him happy?’  
‘Don’t you wish you can make  **anyone**  happy?’~~ _

“…does it not?” Logan added quietly. Roman sighed sympathetically.

“I am just saying, the heart tends to betray the rest of your body when you are in love,” Roman said, quieter than anything else said that night. Logan crossed his arms.

“I am not in lo—”

“Just trust me, Lo,” Roman said. “I just need you to promise me you’re not going to try and be the homewrecker in Patton’s life. Don’t aim to fill in a pre-existing role in his life; aim to audition for a new one.”

Logan frowned. It didn’t make sense logically, of course—they weren’t auditioning for any sort of theatrical production—but he didn’t have the heart to tell Roman that.

“Thank you, Roman,” he said instead. “Your advice is very much appreciated, as per usual.”

If Roman was proud,  
he did his best not to show it.

Roman instead flipped through a stray  flower catalogue on the counter, humming, “Anyway, she’s probably not worth your time. You know what they say about Heathers.”

“Heathers are purple-flowered Eurasian heaths that grows abundantly on moorland and heathland,” Logan immediately answered.

Roman blinked, confused.

“No, they’re a…a mythic bitch. ‘She’s a mythic bitch’ and all of that. Obviously.”

“Heathers are not of myth,” Logan said, frowning. “They are real flowers — in fact, there have been a multitude of ornamental varieties that have been developed.”

“No, I mean Heather as in from  _Heathers_  the musical, that’s what…I—” Roman sighed. “Oh, forget it.”

Logan nodded, placing a hand on the counter to grab his glasses, but accidentally grabbing something else instead. He frowned, picking it up and bringing it closer to his eye. Roman smirked.

“Never seen a pen before, Pouty-Mc-Spec-erson?” Logan rose an eyebrow at him. Roman meekly added, “Sorry, I just really liked that one.”

“I have seen a pen before,” Logan said. “In fact, I’ve seen this pen this morning. This…this is Patton’s pen.”

Roman’s eyes lit up. Logan continued to observe it obliviously.

“Perhaps it’d be best if I pocket it for now,” Logan said, opening the counter drawer to place the pen in. “I can return it to him tomorrow morning when we meet again.”

“No!” Roman suddenly exclaimed, reaching over the counter to grab the pen. Logan quickly drew his hand back, and Roman’s stomach crashed against the counter’s edge. He winced, and then looked up at Logan.

“What…the  _hell_  was that for?” he huffed.

“I do not see why you have such an interest in Patton’s pen,” Logan said.

“Why do you?” Roman shot back.

Logan said nothing, and Roman sighed.

“I was just thinking that you could return it to Patton,” he explained. “Go and see him before he closes up the shop.”

“If this is one of your frivolous attempts at setting me up for a romantic relationship, then might I once more, I am not in—”

“It’s my frivolous attempts at setting you up for a  _friendship_ ,” Roman cut him off. “If you go now, you might still catch up.”

Logan hesitated  ~~there is in **no way** that he should try now; not after  **failing**. ~~ before nodding.

“Perhaps that would be a better option as well.” Roman’s smile widened. “I should…I should probably be on my way then. Do you mind locking up, Roman?”

“Key’s in the usual place?” Logan nodded. Roman smiled and grabbed the key from the bottom of the floor mat beneath the counter stool, and twirled it between his fingers.

“Do you mind if I borrow a ten?” Roman asked as Logan grabbed his jacket from the back. “Might treat myself to some ice cream or something. I’d steal from my own place if I wasn’t so lazy.”

“It’s the least I can offer you for your help, Roman,” Logan hummed, adjusting his beanie. Roman grinned.

“My help is free, darling,” Roman said with a wink, “always is.”

Logan smiled, nodding his head slightly to say goodbye, and quickly rushed outside into the crisp, winter night.

He fiddled with the pen in his pocket and smiled.

* * *

“You make me sick…”

“…from eating all of your delicious goods!”

Patton laughed, flashing a pair of finger guns at Virgil. He smoothly added, “Cupcakes!”

VIrgil and Patton were sitting across from one another on opposite sides of the counter. Patton was writing with a small wooden pencil into his notebook, and Virgil’s chin was rested in the palm of his hand.

“Let’s do another one!” Patton said. “I want as many of these as possible. I can already think of all the designs for ‘em…”

Virgil thought about it for a moment before perking back up, an idea dawning on him.

“You make me want to die…” Virgil began in an over-dramatic voice. Patton thought about for a while before his eyes lit up.

“…of laughter!” he finished, and Virgil nodded in agreement, smiling a little as he watched Patton quickly scribble it down. “Do another!”

Virgil tapped on the edge of the counter before saying, “When I see you, I want to throw up…”

“…myyyy hands in the air and yell,”—Patton threw his hands up in the air—“ _yayyy!_ ”

Virgil smirked as Patton wrote the sentence down and exclaimed as he clapped, “Another!”

“Do you wanna go…” Virgil began threateningly.

“…on a date with me, pretty please?” Virgil grinned as Patton murmured, “Ooh, that one’s foxy, I like it.”

Virgil giggled. “I’m going to crush you…”

“…with a big ol’ hug for being such a dear friend!” Patton laughed before adding, “Juicy!”

“ _Juicy_ ,” Virgil deadpanned.

“Yeah!” Patton’s eyes lit up. “That reminds me, maybe I should make a juice-themed card for someone’s ‘ _main squeeze_ ’!”

“Okay, that was a good one. Good job,” Virgil conceded, lifting his hand for a hi-five. Patton grinned.

“I knew you’d be good at these!” he exclaimed happily, hi-fiving Virgil before lowering his hand to draw lazily in his notebook, adding to the doodles within in the margins. “Virgil, you are now going to be on misleading compliment-card duty.”

He giggled and added, “Heh, I said  _duty_.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, watching quietly as Patton continued to write notes in (and draw doodles in the margins of) his notebook.

When the silence became practically unbearable, Virgil blurted out, “So how’s things going with you and  _‘Lieutenant Literal’_  over next door?”

“You mean Logan?” Patton asked, taking a sip from his mug of coffee. “What about him?”

“Are things gettin’ steamy yet?” Virgil said smugly. Patton’s eyes widened as he spit his coffee to the side. Virgil laughed as Patton’s cheeks went bright red.

“Virgil!” Patton scolded. “God, I sure hope that was a coffee pun you were making.”

“Nope.” Virgil popped the ‘p.’ Patton crossed his arms.

“I don’t like Logan, kiddo,” he said firmly. “I think you’ve definitely been mistaken.”

“I see how you stare at him.” Virgil smiled smugly. “I don’t think you like him—”

“There you go!” Patton interjected.

“—I think you  _loooove_  him.”

Patton blushed madly, burying his head in his arms as he slumped face-first against the counter.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up—”

“This is like when you had a crush on that Wiseau dude back in tenth grade…” Virgil continued. Patton’s head shot up and he glared at Virgil.

“Hey, Jeremy Wiseau had cute brown eyes, braces, and glasses!” Patton cried out defensively. “What wasn’t there to love about him?!”

“Nerd next door seems to fulfill at least two out of three of those…” Virgil wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe you can even write the nerd a love letter too — say, do you think dear ol’ Jeremy kept his?”

Patton let out a frustrated squeak and practically flew out of his seat, running around the store and away from Virgil, yelling, “La la la la la—  _I can’t hear you!_ ”

Virgil smirked, chasing after Patton before finally catching up with him and pulling hands arms off his ears. Virgil laughed as Patton continued to blush.

“Now don’t you dare say a thing like that in front of Heather, alright?” Patton continued to joke around, wagging his finger at Virgil playfully. 

Virgil crossed his arms. His smile slowly faded.

“Right.”

Patton’s smile faltered at the unexpected tension in Virgil’s voice.

“You know it would—”

“—get her mad?” Virgil finished, suddenly bitter. Patton sighed.

“It would make her  _upset_ ,” Patton corrected lightly, “and I don’t want that.”

“Right,” Virgil said again. Patton looked at Virgil, a bit hurt, but quickly shook it off for the sake of starting a new conversation.

“Anyway, enough about me,” Patton said, brushing himself off. “How’s it going over at Roman’s?”

“You mean  _Tea and Tunes?_ ” Patton nodded. Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it’s going alright, I guess.”

“Do you like it there?” Virgil stuffed his hands in his pocket. “Because, you know, there’s no pressure to stay whatsoever. If it isn’t a perfect fit, you can always try going somewhere else—”

“No, it’s definitely cool and all,” Virgil said, voice dropping to a quieter level. “The location is really convenient, Roman let me choose my hours and everything, which means I can work on the days I don’t have classes — it’s all very…nice.”

“Neat-o, kiddo!” Patton pat Virgil’s back softly. “I knew you had it in ya, Virge.”

“Thanks, Pat,” Virgil said with a small smile.

“How’s Roman?” Patton asked. “I got to meet him for the first time today and he certainly seems…extravagant.”

“Take out the last six letters,” Virgil scoffed. Patton laughed. “He is a very outgoing dude. He seems really passionate about theatre and all that stuff.”

“Well that just sounds fantastic!” Patton exclaimed happily. “I am glad you’re enjoying yourself, kiddo!”

He paused, before adding, “You know, I am not usually one for Broadway puns, but when I do—”

“Don’t,” Virgil said.

“— _anything goes!”_  Patton finished off with a giggle. Virgil groaned out loud as Patton’s chuckles died out slowly.

“Anywhoo, I am glad you are enjoying yourself, Virge.” Virgil couldn’t fight off the blush that spread across his face. “I am real glad that Roman is treating you well too.”

“Right…” He trailed off quietly, and when Patton looked at him, his eyes widened.

“Wait a minute…” Patton gasped, covering his mouth. “Oh my  _goodness!_  You—”

Before Patton could finish—and much to Virgil’s relief—the door swung open and the loud sound of bells ringing cut Patton off. Virgil let out a small sigh of relief.

“This isn’t over,” Patton whispered. Virgil smiled, slipping on his hood and digging his hands in his pocket smugly. “You are lucky that Logan seems to come at very convenient times.”

“Salutations, Patton and Virgil,” Logan said. “I hoped I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Nope,” Virgil said smugly, glaring at Patton, “just in time.”

Patton elbowed Virgil lightly and broke into a small smile.

“No, you’re good!” Patton said. “I was just about to close up.”

“Likewise.” Logan pulled out the pen from his pocket. “But before I did, I wanted to stop by because I believe you left this at my shop during your earlier visit.”

Patton grinned and grabbed it, giving Logan a brisk hug before hurrying to his desk to slip it into the notebook’s pocket.

“Thank goodness!” Patton said. “I was honestly getting tired of using that short pencil.”

“Well, you’re…you’re quite welcome.”

“I was afraid I lost it to be honest — I was sort of waiting for you to say you had it or something.” Patton winked. “I guess you can say that I was truly  _pat_ -ton  _pen_ -ding.”

“You…” Logan blinked. “That’s the same joke. You have previously said that self-referential joke during our first meeting.”

“Just addin’ to it!” Patton said happily. “It’s quite sweet of you to remember though!”

Logan blushed, and a newfound sense of confidence rushed through him.

“Actually, on the topic of ‘sweet’, I was wondering if for that, um,  _raincheck_ - _ed_  date,” Logan stammered, stuffing his shaky hands in his pant pockets, “you would be interested in having lunch at a nearby ca—”

Before Logan could finish, the door swung open once more. The sound of bells rung in everyone’s ears, and they turned around.

Standing at the door was a woman with bright blonde hair, with green soaked in the tips.

Logan blinked, adjusting his glasses because  
_wow_.

She wore a mini-skirt with fish-net leggings, knee-high black leather boots, and a crop top under a leather pastel pink leather jacket. The sleeves reached her elbows, revealing a faded, pink and blue rose-vine tattoo.

Logan noticed Virgil quietly groan, looking down. Perplexed, Logan faced Patton, who had a bright smile on his face as he walked towards the woman.

“Hey!” he exclaimed upon seeing her, and before Logan knew it, Patton kissed the woman on the cheek. His eyes widened, and the girl’s dark purple lips lifted into a smile.

“Hey, baby,” she purred.  ~~Logan’s heart began racing like a madman.~~

Patton turned to Logan and grinned.

“Right, I almost forgot!” He gestured to the woman. “Heather, this is Logan! Logan,  _this is Heather!_ ”

~~Logan’s heart dropped like a dead weight in mere seconds.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	7. Orange Mocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan came to the conclusion that this was his formal introduction to Patton.  
> Oh, loves-everyone-too-much-it-hurt-him Patton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: minor swearing
> 
> a/n- this was lowkey such a difficult chapter to write and im not sure why. but hey, we run into those sort eventually. so here it is anyway — i hope you enjoy it :)

_“orange mocks = deceit.”_

~*~

“H-Heather,” Logan stammered. Virgil frowned at Logan’s sudden nervousness, and Logan scrambled to adjust his tie.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward to extend a hand towards Heather.

“Yes, um, Heather,” he said again, more calmly this time. She shook his hand hesitantly. “Patton has mentioned your name before. I believe you are his significant other?”

Much to Logan’s surprise, she laughed  ~~and her _ **damn**_  laugh sounded like church bells ringing~~.

“Who brought Wikipedia over here?” She circled Logan, almost as if quietly observing him. She flashed a smile at him. “And yes, I am Heather. I hope Patton has told you only the  _best_  of things.”

“I sure did!” Patton, Logan noted, was quick to respond. He went up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist happily. “I am really glad you’re here! I missed you, bunny.”

“Missed you too, Pat,” she replied back with a  ~~sickeningly~~  sweet smile. She slowly broke free of Patton’s grasp and walked around the store. She stopped when she was about to pass by Virgil, who was looking down and playing with the hem of his hoodie.

“Virgil.” Her voice was almost  _gruff_ , as if just saying his name made her upset. Virgil seemed to have shared the same feeling.

“Heather,” he echoed back lowly, before slipping on his headphones. Heather rolled her eyes, and Logan looked at Patton, confused. Patton was frowning, but as soon as he made eye contact with Logan, his smile returned in the blink of an eye.

“Virge and Heather have this whole ‘playful feud’ thing going on,” Patton explained with a quiet chuckle. “They do it all the time — isn’t it hilarious?”

Logan watched Heather walk slowly around the store, as if examining every wall and shelf. He frowned.

“I apologize, but I do not seem to find the humorous appeal,” he said honestly.

Patton’s smile fell for a split second,  ~~ _god, Logan, look what you’ve done_~~  but if he was upset, he wasn’t planning on showing it anytime soon.

“Um, what do you think of the shop, Heather?” Patton asked instead. “I fixed it up real nice from when we—  _you_  bought it, eh?”

Heather shrugged.

“A very… _interesting_  aesthetic,” she hummed; “reminds me of one of those model rooms from Ikea.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” Patton chirped. Heather shrugged with a smug smile. 

“It’s a compliment depending on how much you like Ikea,” she teased.

“Do  _you_  like Ikea, Heather?” Virgil spoke up in an-almost mocking tone, and Logan could feel the tension thicken.

Heather said nothing.

“Anyway,” Patton said, breaking the silence, “you’re here early, aren’t you? Let out of work early?”

“Yeah.” Patton walked towards the cashier register, pulling out a small backpack from behind counter it say on.

“I guess I’ll start packin’ up then!” Patton said cheerily. Logan could see a glimpse of Virgil rolling his eyes in the corner of his vision. “Are you in the mood for Thai or Italian?”

“Did you finish everything I asked you to?” Heather asked instead. Logan frowned, but Patton smiled as if nothing was wrong.

“Yup!” he chirped proudly. “Brought the laundry to the dry cleaner’s, I made a card for your aunt’s funeral—”

“Can I see it?” she cut him off.

“Sure thing!” Patton said, leafing through the counter drawer and pulling out a silver card. Logan snuck a glance and it was definitely an elegant design—white flowers curving along the side of the card and white cursive across the front—but when Patton slid the card across the counter and towards Heather, her face fell.

“No pun?” she asked.

“I “I…I thought it was inappropriate.” Patton’s smile remained, but it faded into a confused, nervous smile. “Um, you know. For a funeral and all.”

“Are you kidding?” Heather laughed. “I hated that old sag. Start the card over with a pun.”

“But—”

“That’ll really grind some people’s gears,” Heather continued, cutting him off with a smug smile.

Silence. Logan thought about intervening when  _Patton suddenly let out a loud laugh too_  — one that rung in Logan’s ears like a siren. Even Virgil looked a little surprised.

“Heh, that would be sort of funny, wouldn’t it?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed.

This was  _Patton_.  
Being-sad-is- _never-a-joke_  Patton.  
Loves-everyone- _too-much_  Patton.

Perhaps, Logan suddenly thought, he had never really  _met_  Patton.

“I suppose I’ll get you the card by tomorrow then!” Patton’s expression was unreadable at this point. He slipped the card back into the drawer. “Is that okay?”

“Good enough,” Heather said with a tiny smile. Patton’s smile suddenly faded, and was replaced by a flash of guilt.

“ _Shoot_ ,” Patton murmured under his breath. His fingers began to drum on the surface of the counter nervously.

“Is everything satisfactory, Patton?” Logan decided to ask. Patton blushed, rubbing the back of his neck with a small smile.

“Groceries,” he said meekly. “That’s literally the one thing I forgot — shoot, I am sorry, Heather!”

If Heather was upset,  
she knew that it would be wrong to show it.

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. She flashed a Cheshire cat-like smile.

“No need to apologize, Pat.” She hugged him by the waist, pulling him close. “It’s just a silly mistake, right?”

“Won’t happen again,” Patton said with a small smile, pecking her cheeks. “Thanks for being so chill about it though, honey.”

She said nothing in response, but continued to sweetly smile at Patton. Something must’ve clicked in Patton’s mind, because his smile fell and his head fell back ever-so-slightly.

“I can grab groceries tonight if you’d like!” Patton offered. “I get that it’s late and all, and we have plans and everything, but—”

“We can reschedule dinner,” Heather compromised. “You still have things to do anyway — we should spend time together when everything is done, don’t you think?”

Logan almost felt guilty for watching Patton force a smile. Virgil, at this point, decided to go to the back room, as if he had enough of the entire situation. Logan could hear his loud, angry music coming out from his headphones.

“I’m sorry again, Heather,” Patton said softly. An idea flashed in his head, and he added, “You know what, I’ll pay for groceries then, to make it up to you and all — it’ll sort of be like I’m buying dinner! I can make pasta tonight if you’d like—  _ooh_ , like a stay-at-home dinner!”

His smile was brighter than the sun, and it almost hurt Logan to look at it. Heather pretended to think about it, a finger pressed lazily against her chin.

“Hmm,” she hummed, swaying teasingly to the side. “I dunno, I think I need a lil’ more than that…”

Patton smiled fondly and playfully rolled his eyes, leaning down to peck Heather’s cheek. She giggled, squeezing him a little tighter.

 _Tighter_. Logan felt as if the room was going to  _crush him._

“You can cook Italian tonight,” Heather hummed in Patton’s chest. “I’d very much like Italian.”

She was much smaller than him, Logan realized — almost like a child burying themselves into their father’s chest.

Patton’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Hey, you know what one piece of spaghetti said to another?” Patton suddenly blurted out. Heather rose an eyebrow, and Patton kissed her cheek, finishing, “I love you from my head  _to-ma-toes!_ ”

Heather stared at him, almost  ~~emotionlessly~~  blankly.  ~~(Logan hated that word.)~~

Patton giggled, nudging her playfully.

“You know,” he continued, “because spaghetti is often paired with, like, tomatoes?”

Logan let out a loud, “Ha!” unexpectedly, and a beat of silence passed. To Logan’s relief, Patton beamed an almost thankful look at him.

Logan blushed upon seeing his stare, and Heather blinked before suddenly began giggling as well.

“Ah, I get it!” Heather grinned. “You’re funny, sweetie.”

Patton seemed proud to hear that, Logan noticed.

“I expect you home at 10,” Heather said, slowly letting go of Patton. “You know what you’re getting?”

“Yeah, I have the list in my notebook,” Patton hummed, grabbing the notebook off the counter and slamming it closed with one hand, smiling.

“Then I don’t want you out too late,” she replied, heading towards the door. “Don’t want you running off with anyone new, you know?”

“Aww, you care about me!” Patton teased, and perhaps  _that_  was when Logan felt his chest  _tighten_ uncomfortably.

“I appreciate the concern, hun,” Patton continued. “I’ll make sure to call you when I am going back.”

The response seemed to satisfy Heather and kissed Patton on the lips one more time— _must they do that right in front of him?_ —and before she walked out, she looked at Logan.

“It was nice meetin’ ya!” she chirped.

“Likewise,” Logan gritted through his teeth, and Roman’s words seemed to seep into his mind. He relaxed his shoulders and added, “Have a lovely night, Heather.”

“Heather?” Patton asked, his voice small and almost shy. Heather turned around and faced Patton, who smiled and said, “You look really pretty.”

Logan sighed, almost sadly;  
oh,  _loves-everyone-too-much Patton._

“I know.” Heather winked. “I’ll see you later, sweetie.”

She swiftly exited, and Patton let out a happy sigh.

“Well boys, I guess that’s me.” He circled around the counter, heading for the door and grabbed his coat off the rack next to the exit. “Virgil? You mind closing up when you leave?”

“Sure,” Virgil called back from the back. Patton smiled at Logan.

“Thanks for dropping my pen off, Lo!” he said  ~~happily~~.

_~~Logan liked to think he at least **knew**  what feelings were.~~ _

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Patton, wait.” He stopped at the door, and Logan slowly walked towards him. Logan cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up.  

“Do you mind if I…accompany you?” he finally asked. Patton’s eyes brightened. “I believe I have to purchase some groceries as well, and perhaps we can split the cost.”

“Oh Lo, you don’t have to—”

“Consider it my fair share of gas money,” Logan insisted, “as you are so kindly offering me your method of transportation in order to assist me in completing my own…errands.”

Patton broke into a small smile. “Logan, you are the sweetest, you know?”

Virgil walked out of the back and brushed past Logan, humming along to his loud music and accidentally pushing Logan towards Patton. Logan yelped, nearly colliding into Patton’s arms. 

Both of them blushed.

“Sorry, mate!” Virgil said  ~~ever-so-smugly~~.  
_~~Logan knew a Roman-tactic when he saw one~~_.

“Um, no need to apologize, Virgil.” Virgil flashed an innocent smile. Logan adjusted his tie and added, “Send my regards to Roman, will you? I assume you two have gotten along quite well. He has told me  _so_  much about you.”

Virgil’s eyes widened and Patton stifled a laugh behind his hand. Virgil ducked, blushing furiously and disappearing into the back.

For the first time in a long time, Logan felt a genuinely satisfied smile creep onto his face.

“Onwards?” Logan prompted, opening the door for Patton. He smiled, walking through, and Logan whistled softly as the door shut behind them.

* * *

The car ride was fairly quiet, much to Logan’s relief. Patton drove, humming the music that was softly playing on the radio. Logan sat in the passenger seat, with his mind reeling with illogical possible scenarios that could unfold when they got off. He played each one in his mind.

 _‘How did I land myself in this predicament?’_  he warily thought. He tapped on his knee, his leg bouncing anxiously.

“Goodness,” Patton said, breaking the silence after a few minutes. “What kind of pun do you even put on a funeral card?”

Logan blinked, confused, before his mind recalled the events that occurred at the shop.

“I…I am unsure, Patton,” he answered. Patton’s leg was bouncing under the wheel.

“Maybe…maybe a construction worker?” he mused aloud. “Holding up a sign that says ‘dead end’ or something? Oh God, that makes me feel just  _horrible_ …”

“You are aware that you do not have to follow through with such a request, right?” Logan blurted out. They stopped at a red light and Patton looked at him. Logan gulped, suddenly nervous.

“I am simply suggesting,” he continued more timidly, “that it is not an obligation. The previous card was adequate as is. I do not see the need to make a joke for the sake of satirizing someone, even after mortality — perhaps you should converse with Heather on this subject. Mention that you do not feel…at ease with the task.”

“I guess,” Patton mumbled.

Logan wanted to  _scream_  at Patton right there—that he didn’t have to listen to Heather; that Logan could already see  _ ~~that Heather wasn’t the one, **he**  was the one~~_ Patton was upset—but upon seeing Patton’s frown, he decided to remain quiet.

As the grocery store came into view, Patton cleared his throat.

“Um, Logan,” he began, “what Virgil did back at the shop, he—”

Logan forced a laugh that nearly got stuck in his throat. He swallowed thickly.

“It is not an issue,” Logan reassured him. Patton broke into a relieved smile. “I found it quite…endearing.”

“You shot it back quite well, didn’t you?” Patton chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen his face turn that red. That was pretty hilarious if I can be completely honest — you are funny, you know?”

Logan blushed.

“Humorous, factual,” he said meekly, “tomato, solanum lycopersicum.”

And Patton laughed out loud, and it rang in Logan’s ears.

He wanted to smile  _ ~~to show Patton how enamoured he was by his presence; to show Patton how he didn’t deserve Heather at all, Patton should be with **him** , you should be with **me**~~_  but Roman’s reminder suddenly seeped back into his head.

_“Don’t aim to fill in a pre-existing role in his life; aim to audition for a new one.”_

Logan decided to remain quiet for the rest of the trip.

_~~such illogical behaviour.~~ _

* * *

“What did one calm melon say to another eager melon before their wedding?” Logan stopped mid-way into putting an apple in a plastic bag and faced Patton with a perplexed frown.

“Melons, or any sort of fruit, are unable to speak, Patton—”

“ ‘I’m sorry’,” Patton said, picking up a fruit, “ ‘but we  _cantaloupe_ ’!”

Logan stared at him, and then stared at the cantaloupe in Patton’s hands.

“Get it?” Patton waved the cantaloupe with emphasis. “Like, because ‘can’t elope’ sounds like  _cantaloupe_ , and one melon was eager to- to get married, and—”

“Yes, Patton, I understand the joke.” Logan paused, and hesitantly added, “I am quite…fond of that one.”

Patton beamed proudly, dropping the cantaloupe in his basket.

The supermarket was almost empty, given that it was quite late. Logan looked around and it was only then that he realized that it was  _just the two of them_ , and the sudden silence—apart from Patton’s quiet humming—began to drive him  _insane_.

“Do you do that often?” he blurted out. Patton faced him, and Logan swallowed, scratching his nose nervously. “Um, tell jokes with Heather, I mean. Whilst you two are, um…out and about. Running errands and such.”

“Not really, no!” Patton chirped. “Heather is usually kinda busy during the day, so I’m the one doing all the errands, which means there isn’t really anyone to joke around with, other than the cashier person.”

Patton’s laugh seemed tired now, Logan thought to himself.

“She seems quite…interesting,” Logan said out loud. “Heather, I mean. Don’t be mistaken, I find that she has an… _endearing_  charm about her. However—”

“However?” Patton asked, almost sadly. Logan felt his heart drop and cleared his throat.

“I feel as if she is very…structured,” he said at last. More  ~~panicked~~  wary, he added that, “She follows a certain structure to her everyday life. She seems very dedicated to her routine.”

That seemed to put Patton at ease a little, he noticed.

Patton smiled anyway. “She certainly did seem a little uptight, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Logan turned beet red _ ~~—stupid, that was really **fucking**  stupid of you to say, Logan—~~_but Patton shook his head with a small chuckle.

“Don’t sweat it, Lo,” Patton said softly, picking out fruit from the displays in front of them. “A lot of people told me that too. You’d be just shocked to hear that Virgil doesn’t really like her.”

“I was not aware,” Logan lied through his teeth, and if Patton knew, he didn’t try to notice.

“I thought so too, in all honesty,” Patton admitted. “When I first met her, she seemed pretty icy. She threw her lunch at me when I went to say hi. But…but I think there was just something that was  _drawing_  me to her, you know?”

_~~‘Yes,’ Logan thought eagerly, ‘I do know.’~~ _

“She is much sweeter though, once you get to know her and all. We were bio lab partners during the last semester of  senior year, and I fell in love with the way she laughed and the way she made sure everything was  _perfect_  and her dedication to everything, I just…” Patton sighed happily. “I love her a lot, you know?”

_~~‘No,’ Logan thought sadly, ‘I really don’t know how you could.’~~ _

“I made some kind of flashy prom-posal near the end of senior year, and the rest was history.” Patton smiled at the memory. “I suppose love really does thaw a frozen heart.”

Logan pretended to be happy to hear that.

“Are you two situated in a single living space together?” Logan asked. Patton smiled.

“Yup! We’ve been stipulatin’ together for about four years now.” Logan chose to smile at Patton’s rather endearing attempt. “She moved in with me after college.”

“You two have seemed to be together for quite some time,” Logan noted. “Do you ever, perhaps, consider going beyond a long-term relationship into something such as…marriage?”

Patton shrugged, leading Logan to the cereal aisle.

“That’s, um, quite a question, Lo!” Patton said, laughing. He sounded nervous, Logan noticed.

 _‘Of course he would be nervous,’_  Logan scolded himself.  _‘That isn’t just a question you ask someone. ~~Stupid. That was stupid.~~ ’_

“I-I…I apologize,” Logan stammered. “That was a very forward question, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s all good!” Patton said with a smile. “I think it’s a good question. In all honesty, I haven’t really thought about it as much as I should. I am aware that Heather and I have been together for quite some time, like nine years almost, but…”

Patton paused. Logan frowned, nodding his head for him to continue.

“I suppose I am not a man of change,” Patton admitted. “I like things just the way they are. Which, I mean, is totally selfish. What if Heather wants something more? What if  _I’m_  holding her back? What if—”

“You cannot base your opinions and beliefs on hypothetical situations,” Logan cut him off. Patton sighed, grabbing a box of  _Lucky Charms_  off the shelf and into his basket.

“I just like being  _here_ , if that makes sense,” Patton chuckled. “The heart often does not like change and if you can’t already tell, I tend to think with my heart quite a lot.”

Upon seeing Patton’s suddenly sullen look, Logan hesitantly said, “Might I suggest talking to Heather on the subject of this matter, thus clearing hypothetical variables to your solution. Perhaps it can shed some light on where you both stand on the issue.”

A beat of silence passed. Patton was now staring at Logan, who immediately regretted speaking up  ~~ _why did he always get involved?_~~.

“I, um, apologize,” Logan blurted out. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. It was incorrect for me to assume you would value my advice. I should’ve—”

“I should’ve met you sooner,” Patton cut him off softly, dropping his basket and wrapping Logan in a  _tight_  hug. Logan, surprised, shakily put his own basket down and wrapped his arms around Patton as well.

_He is warm.  
~~You are cold.~~_

_This is…nice._ _  
_

Logan couldn’t help but let his  ~~illogical~~   _emotional_  thoughts seep through, just for a little while. Patton was in his arms, holding him tightly, and he came to the conclusion that the most logical way for the human body to react to physical affection is through an emotional feeling of  _affection itself_.

They pulled back slightly, and their faces were so close that Logan could feel Patton’s warm breath.

His mind was racing. Much faster than a normal human being. He was thinking too much, he needed to say something quickly, he—

Patton’s phone began to ring.

When Patton gently pushed Logan off him and out of the hug, Logan’s breath hitched, almost disappointed. The first thing Patton did was check his watch and silently murmured “shoot” under his breath. He took the call.

“Yes, Heather, dear,” he said. Logan felt awkward enough to grab a cereal box he didn’t need off the shelf as well. “I am still at the supermarket, I— no, it’s just me.”

Logan tried not to look fazed at the lie.   
~~The feeling of **special**  and  **loved**  disappeared as fast as it came.~~

“I got a bit carried away at the cereal aisle,” Patton chuckled. “Yeah, sorry, love. I’ll be home in five, okay? I— yes,  _I promise_. I love you. Bye.”

Patton pocketed the phone and Logan cleared his throat.

“Not to be a pessimist, Patton, but you would arrive home in approximately eleven minutes,” Logan said quietly. “This would be if you were to leave without buying groceries, and then go home at a speed slightly above what is regulated.”

Patton said nothing for a few seconds, which admittedly terrified Logan. He finally smiled.

“I guess this just means we’ll have to skip the ice cream aisle, huh?” he said with a chuckle, and turned around to walk to the cash register  _as if the world wasn’t collapsing on him_.

Patton paid for all their groceries, despite Logan’s attempts at diffusing the kind gesture. However, when he tried to argue in front of the cashier person, Patton’s eyes held a sign that  _no_ , it wasn’t a kind gesture, but a  _guilty_  one.

Logan came to the conclusion that  _this_  was his formal introduction to Patton.  
Oh, loves-everyone-too-much- **it-hurt** -him  _Patton_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	8. Moonflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A dream is a wish your heart makes,  
> when you're fast asleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentions of anxiety, break-ups
> 
> a/n- hiya! sorry it’s been a while! i have been hit by a nasty illness and the horrors that is exam season, heh. i took a bit of a break from writing, as my brain has been on a bit of an emotional roller-coaster too, but i am back now! hopefully you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it xx

_"moonflowers = i only dream of love"_

~*~

Virgil sat at the piano bench, staring at the ivory keys, with his leg anxiously bouncing underneath the piano.

 _‘This is going to go terribly,’_  is the first thing his mind whispered.  _‘This was a stupid idea. You didn’t look at the sheet music enough. You need to tell Roman you can’t do this. **You can’t do this.** ’_

The first part was a lie; Virgil gave himself that one. He didn’t sleep at all the night, instead choosing to perfect every single note in the compositions that he and Roman previously discussed for Virgil’s debut at the café — at what Roman called “Disney Night.” Virgil suggested opening with the traditional Walt Disney theme, and Roman wanted to follow that “Someday My Prince Will Come.”

He spent the entire night learning new pieces: songs from Cinderella compromised into a single melody, which would make Roman smile; “When Will My Life Begin” paired with “I See The Light” that would make Roman smile too;  _and after realizing that all of this was to make Roman smile_ , he learned “I Won’t Say I’m In Love” from  _Hercules_  as an act of defence and then refilled his mug of coffee.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the best idea, staying up the entire time out of nervous preparation — hence why he wholeheartedly believed the second statement. He  _couldn’t_  do this today; there was no way.

Virgil continued to stare at the piano’s keys, not even acknowledging the fact that Roman was speeding up the spiral staircase with a coffee and a plate of brownies in his hand. It was only when Roman loudly slammed the food next to him that Virgil realized he was there. The force of the slam blew pages of sheet music off the small table besides the piano.

“Sorry, Hot Topic.” Roman knelt over to pick up papers. Virgil stared at the food on the table, almost dumbfounded.

“What’s all of this?” he asked, staring at what Roman brought him. Roman stood up, placing the stack of sheet music next to the food.

“One  _Chocolate Swirl_  brownie,” Roman announced, “and one extra-large  _Black Cauldron._ ”

“You, um, didn’t have to get me all of this,” Virgil mumbled.

“Are you kidding?” Roman leaned against the piano with one arm. “I could see the dark storm clouds under your eyes all the way from downstairs.”

Virgil blushed. “You know I’ll pay you back after, right?”

“I’ll return the money through your first paycheck,” Roman retorted, and Virgil rolled his eyes. “Did you get any sleep last night, sweater paws?”

Virgil looked at his hands, which were in fact pulling the ends of his sleeves to the middle of his palm. He let go of them subconsciously.

“Was it that obvious?” he said quietly. Roman laughed, taking the cup of black coffee and holding it front of Virgil with a knowing, yet smug smile. Virgil smiled thankfully and took it, sipping some quietly.

“Nervous, are you?”

“Scared beyond this plain of existence,” Virgil answered sullenly. Roman sighed, pulling over a chair from a nearby table and sitting besides Virgil. It was only when Roman gently placed his hand on his knee that Virgil realized that his leg had been bouncing. He blushed furiously.

“You aren’t scheduled to play for about ten minutes or something,” he said, noting the small tremble in Virgil’s hands as he drank the coffee. “We can chat for a while about nothing in particular. Get your head out of the…pit. Or something.”

Virgil shrugged wordlessly. Roman smiled sympathetically.

“You know, I just realized that I know almost nothing about you, Virge,” Roman said. Virgil turned to face him.

“There’s nothing much to know.”

“Well, the subject of your life is certainly  _hot topic_ , isn’t it?”

“…was that a pun?” Roman laughed, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Just tell me something,” Roman insisted. “Doesn’t have to be anything extravagant. I’m sure every part of your life is extraordinary-with-a-touch-of berry!”

Virgil scoffed loudly. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Roman took the fork from the side of the plate with a brownie and scooped himself a slice and rested his elbow one of the keys. He ignored Virgil and instead stared at him, waiting for an answer. Virgil looked down shyly.

“Um, well I am the youngest, obviously,” Virgil said, pressing his thumbs together nervously. “I, um, started playing the piano when I was eight when my therapist said it could be a good thing for me to learn something new. To, um, ease the anxiety and what not, you know?”

“So you started when you were a kid?” Roman asked.

Virgil nodded, sipping his coffee. “Yup. I guess I sort of got attached to it after a while, so I took a bunch of music classes and, well, here I am today.”

“You found your passion at such a young age!” Roman exclaimed cheerily.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“That is truly an extraordinary thing, Virge,” Roman sighed happily. “Do you play on pursuing music in the future?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’d like to be a music teacher or something. Though I am studying psychology as well, so if that doesn’t work out, being a therapist sounds great too.”

“Such a variety,” Roman mused aloud. “Music theory and then all the science mumbo-jumbo — I have never heard of someone who would mix the two around and such. You must be incredibly intelligent.”

“I’m really not,” Virgil said, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly. Roman scoffed.

“Nonsense,” Roman said, taking another bite of the brownie. Virgil decided that if he turned any more red than he already was, he would certainly explode.

“You going to save me some, Princey?” he decided to say instead.

Roman looked up mid-bite, and Virgil’s smug smile dropped — was that too much?

A beat of silence pasesd.

“Um, yeah!” Roman’s cheeks were red— _did he embarrass him?_ —and he passed Virgil the fork. “Sorry.”

Virgil chuckled, taking the fork and scooping up a piece the brownie.

“How about you, Princey?” Virgil asked in a quiet voice, noticing how Roman blushed every time he used the nickname. “What made you want to open a Broadway-themed café?”

Roman chuckled, brushing some hair out of his eye and resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

“Ah well it may come as a shock to you, but I am a bit of a theatre fanatic,” Roman began.

“Couldn’t tell,” Virgil deadpanned.

“Anywhoo, this wasn’t always my dream, you know?” Roman stood up, circling Virgil and the piano whilst waving his hands in the air dramatically, as if conjuring up the story out of thin air. “I wanted to travel the world! Get on broadway and be a part of a cast—no, an  _experience;_  on a stage and in a show bigger than my dreams could ever ask for!”

Virgil watched quietly, and admittedly, was amused. Roman continued.

“I performed in many smaller scale productions within the local community theatre,” Roman continued, “and eventually landed my big break. I was playing Sky Masterson in  _Guys and Dolls._  It was my biggest role yet, and it ran for a three or four months. I basically went town-hopping, performing two shows a day — it was everything I could’ve ever asked for.”

There was a twinkle in his eyes, Virgil noticed, that flashed brightly whenever Roman smiled. Virgil hated to admit it, but it was definitely infectious; he felt a small smile of his own creep onto his face as he watched Roman speak.

“However, there was a lot more on that stage to love that was beyond playing a role,” Roman said with a small smile. “I met the love of my life on that stage. We both auditioned and after we got casted, we…we soon became friends. And after friends we soon became a ‘thing’ and…”

Roman trailed off. Virgil felt his heart sink a little— _what was wrong with him?_ —and he forced a smile.

“You two sound lovely together,” Virgil said quietly. Roman sighed.

“Ah, we definitely were,” Roman said sadly, sitting back down on the chair beside him. “That is, until he told me I was naive and that my aspirations were nothing but silly fantasies. He soon found out that while he was doing the play as a hobby, I was doing it because it was my  _dream_.”

Roman sighed. “I wanted a life of theatre. When he figured that out, I suppose that he didn’t want a life with me.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, and he became speechless.

“I…” Virgil swallowed thickly. “I am so sorry, Ro. He…God, he sounds horrible.”

“He was,” Roman murmured. “I am not sure how I couldn’t see it before. Truly a disappointment. Perhaps it was just a one-time thing — meant to last as long as those curtains were open.”

There is a tone of sadness at the end of Roman’s sentence, and Virgil frowned, immediately looking down.

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Virgil said, even if what he wanted to say was “I’m sorry for fucking up,  _I always do_.” However, Roman waved his hand dismissively.

“Not an issue, Surly Temple. Not sure what I expected from a play that I realize is now a bit…distasteful.” Roman chuckled quietly to himself. “Oh, the outdated and unsavoury gender roles, filled up by the cast of characters — the show was bad news to begin with, yet…”

Roman sighed and finished, “I can’t help but love it.”

Virgil cleared his throat, and in attempts at lightening up the situation, said, “Is that why you named one of the menu items  _Guys and Rolls?_ ”

Roman laughed, and Virgil swore it was like bells echoing across an entire city.

“Heh, yes I suppose I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make something as crusty as he was,” Roman joked, and Virgil chuckled quietly.

“Oh goodness, I didn’t even tell you about how I got the café.” Roman ducked, cheeks red. “Though I suppose you don’t want me to ramble for twenty years about this sort of stuff—”

“No!” Virgil said, a little too loudly. Roman looked at him, pleasantly surprised, and Virgil cleared his throat and added, “Um, I would love to hear more. I think it’s really…cool. I guess.”

Roman smiled brightly, as if he was waiting for Virgil to say that.

“Well after that, I was definitely disheartened,”—Roman stood up and assumed a prince-like position that made Virgil smile—“but I did not let that stop me! I decided that I wanted to be involved with Broadway somehow—I even do occasional shows for the community theatre every now and then—but then I realized that more than anything, I wanted to be in  _love_. Find out what it  _really_  means. And I could only do that if I explored beyond a stage.”

Virgil smiled, whispering, “Dork.”

Roman rolled his eyes.

“So I moved to this quiet town,” Roman explained, “and started my own business. It was featured on some popular food-travelling show and the rest, my dear emo nightmare, is history.”

“That is quite the story, Princey,” Virgil said with a small smile. “It’s…really cool to see someone so passionate about something.”

Roman sighed happily. “Well, I suppose the passion had to have come from my a never-ending quest.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked. Roman moved to sit down on the piano bench beside Virgil. He could almost feel Roman’s warm breath hit his skin, and it sent his heart racing.

“Everyday used to be a quest to proving  _him_  wrong,” Roman explained quietly, looking at Virgil gently. “Now…well, now everyday is my quest to live my dream.”

“I thought your dream was to get on Broadway.”

“My dream is to  _fall in love._ ” Roman smiled fondly. “At first, I fell in love with the stage. Now, dear friend, my dream has changed, and I have fallen in love with  _people_.”

They hold each other’s stare for much longer than Virgil was comfortable with. Virgil desperately pushed down any feelings— _he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do this_ —but Roman was so close and he…

Roman pulled back, coughing quietly.

“I…” Roman cleared his throat. “The café. It, um, allows me to watch  _people_. Watch people smile. Watch people laugh. I fell in love with people and how they behaved, and I watched people fall in love; watch people grow  _closer_.”

Roman looked down at the first floor of people, who were buzzing with excitement and glowing with some kind of indescribable  _happiness_.

“I have been told that this café has brought strangers together; allowed a force so grand— so  _magnificent_ , to seep into their lives. I am surrounded by love and now…” He laughed quietly to himself. “Well, now I patiently await for love too.”

Virgil wanted to  _scream_  
that he couldn’t help but fall in love with  _everything_  about this man,  
and that God, it scared the ever-living  _fuck_  out of him.

“However, that is a rather grand scheme for someone like me,” Roman hummed. “I suppose I am on a quest to love  _myself_  for now. Surely that is good enough.”

 _‘How quiet have you been now?’_  Virgil’s mind stirred.  _‘Say something, you idiot. He’s going to think you’re a moron.’_

“You…” Virgil scratched his back, cheeks flushed red. “You, um, go on a lot of quests, don’t you?”

It was stupid, Virgil knew, but it made Roman smile regardless.

“Isn’t life all but a big quest itself?” Roman stood on his feet and clapped his hands together. “Anyway, can’t get too philosophical yet — my break is almost over, and I have been talking to you the entire time.”

Virgil blushed. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize, J.D-elightful,” Roman said with a wide grin. “It is a pleasure! And besides, I believe it is 7 pm, which means you’re on! See? Doesn’t time just speed past you when you’re talking with me?”

 _‘Time‘s not the only thing that speeds up,’_  Virgil thought, almost embarrassed.

“Yeah, I guess it does,” he said instead.

“And I reckon you feel much better now?”

Virgil smiled. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

“Then my job here is done!” Roman patted Virgil on the back, and the physical contact sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. “Now go and knock ‘em dead, Virge.”

Virgil nodded, smiling in response.

“As for me,” Roman called out as he walked down the stairs, “I shall sneak a coffee for myself!  _‘Oh, if I can’t take my coffee break, something within me dies…’_  ”

Roman’s singing echoed in Virgil’s ear and he grinned, amused, before shakily grabbing the stack of paper and lining it up on the piano stand. The first sheet of music had the notes of the Disney theme scrawled on it, and Virgil flexed his hands.

 _‘Focus,’_  his mind told him,  _‘you can’t screw this one up, you just can’t.’_

Virgil took a glance behind the piano and was able sneak a glance past the staircase, where Roman was skipping to the counter with a bright smile on his face.

Virgil smiled too, and began to play.

~*~

Roman began preparing a  _West Side Salad_  with a side of  _Kinky Fruits_ —oh, how he loved his job—whilst every now and then sneaking a glance at Virgil, who had been playing for the last hour. Children and adults alike have circled the piano, and in Virgil’s small tip jar sat a few coins and bills. Roman smiled proudly to himself  _when he heard it._

“A dream,” a quiet voice floated into the room, “is a wish your heart makes…”

Roman froze mid-way into tossing his salad and looked up.

Virgil was  _singing_ , a crowd of children sat around the piano as he played. He leaned into every chord; every  _note_. Each time he hit the keys on the piano, a strand of purple-dyed hair fell in front of his eyes.

All Roman needed was a spotlight and a pitch black café and he would find himself in his very own  _La La Land._

“When you’re fast asleep.” Virgil’s voice was quiet, yet loud enough for Roman to hear. He slowly rested his elbow on the counter, his chin in his hand.

“In dreams you will lose your heartaches. Whatever you wish for, you keep.”

Roman wanted to run up the stairs and sing with him, wrapping him in a tight, warm embrace.

~~Just like how he did with _him_.~~

“Have faith in your dreams and someday,” Virgil sung, “your rainbow will come smiling through.”

His fingers pressed against the keys with an indescribable passion, and Roman couldn’t help but stare at him.

“No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing.” The piano echoed in his ears and he snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that he still had a salad to make, and customers to serve, and  _people to see._

“The dream that you wish for will come true,” Virgil quietly sung, and the song finished on a G.

Roman sighed,  
and a familiar feeling washed over him.

_“Well, now I patiently await for love too.”_

He blinked when Thomas briskly walked past him, and shook his head, continuing to toss his salad and listen as the clapping died down and Virgil went on to continue his Cinderella melody.

“So This Is Love” rang in his ears like a quiet lullaby.  
Roman couldn’t keep the blush off his face for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	9. Sunflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Logan's 25th birthday,  
> and Logan really wishes it wasn't.
> 
> (Or the one where Logan, against his will, is extremely fortunate to be surrounded by...  
> ...an interesting bunch, to say the least.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentions of sex, minor swearing, mentions of bruises, alcohol consumption
> 
> a/n- i have survived the horrors of exams and now bring you a nearly-7000 word chapter. i’m not entirely as sorry as i should be, as this chapter was hella fun to write. enjoy, you lovely people xx
> 
> **disclaimer: please ignore the utter bullshit that is logan’s flower plan at the end of this chapter. just smile and think it’s cute :P**

_"sunflowers = much of the meaning of sunflowers stem from its name — the sun itself."_

~*~

Logan counted the days after his grocery store  ~~date~~  outing with Patton; he counted for so long, in fact, that he didn’t even realize that it was January 31st.

This, he soon realized, was his greatest mistake.

Because on his break—without any warning whatsoever—Roman rushed through the door with a slice of cake on a small, pink plate in tow. He also carried a small tea-cup in his hand. Logan frowned, taking one look at Roman before burying his head back into his flower catalogue.

“You’re going to drop all of that in my shop,” Logan hummed, not looking up from the catalogue. “And I recently lent my broom to Patton, who has still not returned it. You’ll have to walk, and I know how much you dislike doing...anything.”

“Alright, Quadra-matic, relax,” Roman said, placing all the items down on Logan’s counter. “I am not that lazy.”

“I asked for your help cleaning up the shop last Sunday and you said you were busy ‘making sure Eleven was okay’ with your cat.”

“Hey, my cat has a name.” Roman huffed, crossing his arms. “ _Dinah_  and I were just starting Season 2 of  _Stranger Things_ — Virgil threatened to spoil it for me if I didn’t start right away, so I did! You can’t blame me for preventing a tragedy.”

“Ah, I see. You did it to please Virgil,” Logan murmured, eyes still glued to the flower catalogue. “Makes sense.”

“Wait, what?! I did not!” Roman protested, his voice high. Logan smiled smugly. 

“Your cheeks are tinted red and your voice went a significant amount of octaves higher than per usual,” Logan said. “Your eyes are wide and I can basically  _hear_  your heartbeat from here.”

Roman said nothing, but crossed his arms. Logan sighed.

“And I know you finished the second season of  _Stranger Things_  prior to Virgil’s request,” Logan said. “I distinctly remember you conversing with me about the events of the last episode over a cup of coffee at your café several days after its initial release back in, I believe,  _December_.”

Roman stared at Logan, and upon hearing no response, Logan finally looked up. Roman huffed loudly.

“What are you, Sherlock?” Roman grumbled.

“Sherlock is a fictional character. I am very much real,” Logan said, pushing his glasses up and focusing his attention back to the flower catalogue. “Anyway, I found it rather interesting that you were willing to re-watch an entire series to assumably refresh your memory of a second season you previously mentioned you, to paraphrase slightly, ‘did not enjoy that much.’ All the sake of a potential conversation with Virgil.”

He smiled up at a blushing Roman. “Fascinating.”

“I am this close to taking your cake away from you,” Roman said, dramatically throwing his hands onto his hip and holding his head away high, away from Logan.

“Remind me later to discuss this potential infatuation you have with Virgil,” Logan said smugly. “After all, I do believe it is a  _rule_.”

“Whatever,” Roman huffed. “You’re just upset because you’re going to be half-related to me once you and Patton get together.”

Logan said nothing in return.  
~~He did his best not to blush.~~

“Besides, you are lucky it is your birthday today,” Roman huffed. “With all of this teasing you’re doing, I am surprised I haven’t made you say goodbye to your  _Enchanted Rose-Tea.”_

“Birthday?” Logan echoed. Roman rolled his eyes.

“Of course you would forget, Mr. Glasses-Molasses.”

Logan frowned. “I...I do not understand.”

“Like...like glasses,” Roman tried explaining, “because you...you were glasses.”

Roman smiled smugly. “And molasses rhymes with glasses, while also describing how slow you are.  _Booyakasha_.”

“By what terms are you measuring my speed in this moment? Because I am almost completely still as of this moment.” Logan adjusted his glasses, still confused. “And...and ‘booyakasha,’ I believe, is not a word whatsoever.”

 _“Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,”_  Roman said with a sigh. He added, more quietly, “And just like a turtle, you are also slow at getting things.”

He rested his elbow on the counter, chin in his hand.

“Do you  _seriously_  not know what day it is today?”

Logan blinked. “It is January 31st.”

“And?”

“And it is a Wednes— oh.”

“Finally,” Roman said, pushing himself off the counter and dramatically throwing his hands in the air. “You may be Sherlock, but you can be as dense as Watson sometimes.”

“John Watson is not dense, he is  _emotional_ ,” Logan said. “I believe that trait, at times, hinders his intelligence.”

“Now emotions don’t hinder intelligence,” Roman said, pointing his finger accusingly at Logan. “If anything, emotional intelligence is just another way of being analytical — an aspect of intelligence you claim is, and I quote, ‘the most important’.”

“That is, in no way, a direct quotation.” Logan cleared his throat. “However, it is a suitable paraphrased sentence. You...you raise a good point, Roman.”

Roman smiled. “See? I remember what you talk about too.”

A part of Logan was... _happy_  to hear that.

The door flew open suddenly, and Logan’s eyes widened to see Patton skip into his shop. He immediately blushed, much to his despair.

“Like a bee to honey,” Roman murmured.

Logan couldn’t help but agree — it was as if Patton was attracted to anything remotely  _happy_.

Logan’s eyes fluttered briefly towards the yellow hue of the sunflowers along his wall, and a strange idea rushed through his head.

“Hiya, Logan!” Patton’s light-hearted voice snapped out of his thoughts, and subconsciously folded a corner of his flower catalogue to remind himself of the idea later.

“And Roman!” Patton greeted happily. “It’s nice to see you here as well! I see you brought some cake and some tea in a beau- _tea_ -ful tea cup!”

“Ah, yes! Just some  _Enchanted Rose-Tea_  for Mr. Lense-Setter.” Logan rolled his eyes as Roman continued. “And I made some  _Sweet-ie Todd Vanilla Cake_  for the birthday celebrant as well! You’re free to have some — I have a fork in my pocket that I am afraid Sir Alge-brainy over here just isn’t going to use.”

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” Logan mumbled.

“Well if you were making Beauty and the Beast references, you should’ve called it  _Beau-Tea and the Beas_ — wait!” Patton’s eyes widened, and he faced a startled Logan. “It’s your  _birthday?!_ ”

“Er, yes.” Logan cleared his throat. “Though I am a firm believer that it should be described as ‘birth anniversary,’ as birthday is a bit misleading — I was not born today, after all.”

“Oh my goodness, why didn’t you tell me?” Patton exclaimed. “Happy birthd— oh wait, sorry,  _happy birth anniversary!”_

Without warning, Patton threw himself across the counter and practically pounced onto Logan, nearly knocking over his cup of tea. Logan’s eyes widened as Patton wrapped his arms around his neck, giving him a hug, despite the fact that he was barely getting over the width of the counter. Logan could hear Roman giggling.

“Um, thank you, Patton,” Logan said after Patton slid back to his side of the counter and clumsily got back onto his feet. “While the gesture was...extravagant, I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Of course, Lo!”

“My name is Logan.” His attempts of correcting Patton flew right over the older man’s head.

“Goodness, I can’t believe it’s your birthday!” Patton said with a smile. “You’re a January baby, huh? How many years young?”

“I am 25 years old as of today,” Logan hummed, trying not to seem happy that Patton was taking such interest in him.

Roman probably noticed, because Logan saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smug smile.

“Shucks, if I knew sooner, I would’ve gotten you a gift or somethin’!” Patton sighed. “You should’ve told me earlier! I could’ve prepared a big celebration!”

Logan fought off a blush. “That...that would not be necessary.”

“Necessary, shmess-assary!” Patton broke into a wide smile. “Say, it’s not too late now! It’s, like, 10 am! Roman, what time does your café close tonight?”

“8 pm,” Roman answered, “but I can close up early! Anything for my dear ol’ Mr. Mo- _Rose_.”

Roman patted Logan’s back, and he winked. Logan brushed Roman’s hand off of him, unamused.

“Then it’s settled!” Patton cheered. “After Roman closes up, I can round up Virgil and bring some movies and we can watch some movies at your place or something!”

“Patton, I do not see the need to waste your efforts on me—”

“Even better,” Roman interrupted, throwing his hands in the air dramatically, “we can just have the celebration at the café! Virgil’s been playing nightly nowadays anyway, so he’ll already be there! I have a projector near the karaoke corner — I could gather up some pillows and blankets and we can watch there!”

“I apologize, but that seems a lot of work to put forth for such an insignificant event,” Logan said, adjusting his tie nervously. “Neither of you are obligated to—”

“Insignificant?” Patton echoed in disbelief. “Why...now why would you think the anniversary of your birth would be  _insignificant?_ ”

Logan blinked.

~~when logan was thirteen,~~   
~~he found out that children typically had birthday parties~~   
~~in which they’d invite friends and have cake with their families.~~

~~so when logan brought this up on the evening of his fourteenth birthday,~~   
~~he went without dinner,~~   
~~because **they**  felt like he should be spending his time memorizing digits of pi,~~   
~~as opposed to eating a slice of one;~~   
~~like sandra did with her parents for her birthday.~~

~~**_logan obliged because it made them proud,  
and that was the greatest gift he could ask for. _ ** ~~

“I…” Logan could practically feel Roman’s stare. He focused his attention to Patton instead when, for a split second, he swore he saw Patton’s heart  _break_.

If Patton noticed too, he did his best not to show it.

“You’re going to have the best birthday party ever, Logan,” Patton whispered softly, going around the counter this time and wrapping Logan in a tight hug. Logan tensed up briefly, but upon seeing the twinkle in Roman’s eye, he slowly loosened up.

“Thank you, Patton,” he said sincerely. When Patton pulled back, Logan felt as if his heart skipped a beat.

Patton’s smile almost hurt to look at.

“I’ll see you tonight then!” Patton chirped. “Ah, this gives me time to make a card!”

Patton hastily said goodbye to Roman on his way out. When the door finally closed, Logan buried his face in his arms, slumping against the counter as Roman laughed.

“Eat your cake,  _Daffo-diligent_ ,” Roman said with a smug smile. “I’ll see you tonight too with Mr. McDreamy...”

“That’s an interesting way to pronounce the name ‘ _Virgil’_ ,” Logan said, attempting to shoot a retort back to Roman, who didn’t seem fazed whatsoever. 

All Roman did as he exited was laugh.

Fortunately, Roman was soon replaced with a customer, and Logan let out a sigh of relief.

He decided that he didn’t want to mention to the customer that he was still on break because he forgot to flip over the ‘closed’ sign anyway, and he was ready to get his mind off  _whatever the hell just happened there._

* * *

Later that evening, Logan locked up the store and sighed, letting the cool night breeze wash over him. He stared across the street at the warm light coming out from the windows, and he could see the silhouette of a person seemingly wearing a party hat run across the room. Logan smiled a bit to himself.

In that very moment, he felt... _fortunate_.

As he walked across the street, the lights immediately went out in Roman’s café. He frowned, feeling a sense of confusion that slowly converted into concern.

When he got to the other side of the road, he hesitantly grabbed the handle of the door to find out that it was open. He slowly opened it, and walked in.

“Roman?” he called out. “I noticed the lights go off as I was walking down the street, and I am unaware of what happened that could have caused such an abrupt switch to darkn—”

The lights flickered on once more and he was greeted with confetti thrown at him from Patton, who popped out behind the front counter. Patton was simultaneously spinning a noise-maker and blowing a party blower between his teeth. Roman also threw two handfuls of confetti into the air, and Virgil was at the light switch on the back wall.

Logan dropped his keys, startled.

“I-I…” he began, dumbfounded. Roman quickly rushed up towards Logan and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Tan- _Gent!_ ” Roman announced as he pulled back. Logan, clearly startled, adjusted his tie nervously.

“I do not understand.”

Roman sighed loudly. “ _Ugh_ , it’s like tangent, but tan- _gent_. Like...like  _gentleman_ , because it’s your birthday and a—”

“No,” Logan interrupted, “I understand the...bizarre nickname. I just do not understand the...the sudden outburst.”

“It’s a surprise party!” Patton exclaimed.

“You would’ve been surprised earlier if Virgil turned on the lights sooner,” Roman muttered, crossing his arms and facing Virgil from the back of the room. 

“Hey, it was really dark!” he grumbled.

“Why would you find the need to surprise me?” Logan asked, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I was already aware of this particular event.”

“Because it would’ve been hilarious to see you scream loudly,” Virgil said smugly, walking over to the counter and grabbing some cups from the shelves.

“I told you that he wouldn’t scream,” Roman retorted, going over to help Virgil out by grabbing some dry forks and spoons from the dishwasher. “He’s more of a...dropper.”

Logan rolled his eyes and leaned over to pick over his keys. Patton dropped the party blower out of his mouth quickly hopped over the front counter. He skipped towards Logan.

“I just thought it’d be fun to throw you a surprise party anyway!” Patton chirped, handing Logan the noise-maker. “Isn’t it cool?”

“I…” Logan frowned, slowly spinning the noise-maker out of curiosity. “I suppose it is. I have no previous experience to compare it to, however, so I am afraid my input is biased.”

“Wait,  _what?_ ” Patton exclaimed. “You never had a birthday party before?”

Logan shrugged. “I suppose I did not see the need for a celebration. I am not one for...partying.”

Roman cleared his throat before Patton could say anything else.

“Cake!” Roman exclaimed suddenly. Patton and Logan faced him. “I made cake. Red velvet, to be specific! I know that’s your favourite, Lo!”

“Satisfactory,” Logan said, his smile returning. “My sincere gratitude, Roman.”

It took a bit longer for Patton’s smile to reappear, but when it did, it was brighter than ever.

“It’s now my job to throw you the best party ever!” Patton’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that reminds me! I have a gift for you!”

“I mean, we all do,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes as Patton rushed across the room and into the back room. “It’s a birthday party after all.”

“I suppose we can open gifts first!” Roman said, clapping his hands together with a smile. “I mean, this part usually comes later, but I figure we’ll all be party-ed out by the time we’re supposed to open gifts. So Patton, grab all the presents while you are still in the back room, and as for you folk, gather ‘round!”

Roman quickly herded Virgil and Logan towards the karaoke corner, and sat them both down, cross-legged on the floor. He threw a party hat towards Logan, who flimsily caught it, and Virgil dug his hands in his sweater pockets.

Roman rushed to the back room when he heard a few boxes fall, and Virgil chuckled quietly to himself. As Logan slowly put on the party hat, he faced Virgil with a confused frown.

“How long did this take them?” Logan asked, now noticing the streamers hung around the café and the big banner with the words ‘Happy Birthday Dr. Bloom!’ sprawled across the page.

“Pretty much the entire day,” Virgil hummed. “Roman nor Patton opened their shops today.”

“P-Pardon?” Logan stammered. “Why...they closed off a day of business! That’s a day’s worth of money put to waste on...on me!”

“Don’t sweat it, Lo,” Virgil said with a small smile. “I even skipped a few classes. Granted, Roman pretty much forced me to help, but that didn’t mean I... _didn’t_  want to help.”

“You skipped class?” Virgil shrugged.

“Wasn’t a big deal,” Virgil said nonchalantly, adjusting himself on the ground so that he was hugging his knees. “I already knew what the lesson was, and it was in a lecture hall, so I would’ve skipped out either way.”

“Still.” Logan folded his hands neatly on his crossed legs. “It is a tremendous amount of effort all three of you put forth for my enjoyment.”

Virgil broke into a small smile.

“I don’t know about Roman, but I knew Patton would’ve rented out an amusement park or something for you if he had the time,” Virgil chuckled. “You seem to make him really happy. Which is...really cool of you. Patton really thinks highly of you, and I feel like it is a nice change in scenery for him.”

Logan tried his best to hide his blush.

“Presents!” Roman singsonged, interrupting Virgil and Logan’s conversation. Patton held two gift bags in his hand, and Roman held a small box with a card stuck on the top. The two closed up the circle as they sat down beside Virgil and Logan. They set the gifts in the middle of the group.

“Alright!” Roman cheered, pushing one of the bags towards Logan. “Me first!”

Logan nodded as a form of gratitude, and slowly took out the tissue paper from the bag and pulled out a shirt. Virgil saw a glimpse of what was on the shirt and stifled a laugh behind his hand. Logan frowned, holding the t-shirt up to the light in order to better understand its message.

“Pinch my... _bud_ ,” Logan read slowly. Patton giggled, and Roman nodded enthusiastically.

“You are  _welcome!_ ” Roman exclaimed. “I got it custom made!”

“It’s...certainly a visual,” Logan said, noticing the person sticking out their flower bud-shaped butt out on the bottom of the shirt.

“That is sure to create somee  _budding_  romance!” Patton said with a wide smile. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Open my gift,” Virgil grumbled, “before he keeps going. Because he will.”

Logan flashed a small smile towards Roman before setting the t-shirt down beside him. He grabbed the small bag off the ground and pulled out a small gift-card.

“Gift card to the bookstore,” Virgil said, looking down shyly. “I would’ve gotten you more if I had the time, but I found out your birthday was today, so I’m sorry that it’s kind of crap.”

“It is nothing of the sorts.” Logan smiled warmly at Virgil. “It is quite satisfactory. I can purchase myself a new book, which is an action that is long overdue. So thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil blushed. “Um, no problem, I guess. I hope you like your book. Or, like, whatever book you get. I...I hope you like it.”

“I guess it’s my turn!” Patton exclaimed, pushing the box towards Logan excitedly. “Read the card first! Out loud!  _For immersion!_ ”

Logan nodded, picking up the card and examining the front. He inwardly groaned.

“ ‘You’re a  _blossom_  of enthusiasm’,” Logan read aloud. Patton giggled excitedly, and Virgil groaned.

“Goodness, Patton,” Roman said, “do you ever stop? Like, ever?”

“Nope!” Patton chirped. “When I was writing it, I thought ‘ _thistle_ ’ get a reaction out of everyone!”

He laughed loudly once more, explaining in between that it was like “this’ll” but “ _thistle_ ” because “Logan was a plant dude.” Logan couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Thank you for...for the clever word-play, Patton,” he said sincerely. Patton waved his hands at him, urging him to continue.

“There’s more!” he said. “Open it!”

When Logan opened it, he began to read out loud.

 _“_ **L** ovely!  
**O** ver-the-top incredible in every way!  
**G** reat with flowers  
**A** nd with pretty much anything else!  
**N** ifty too!

 **F** antastic!  
**R** oman loves you!  
**A** nd Virgil does as well! But most importantly,  
**Y** ou are especially loved by me!

_Happy ~~birthday~~  birth anniversary, friendo! I am really glad I met you when I did — thank you for always putting a smile on my face!_

_Love, Patton xx”_

**_‘Love.’_ **

“An acronym?” Virgil said after Logan—who was dumbfounded in silence—finished reading the card. Patton shrugged with a smile.

“Smart people like acronyms!” Patton reasoned.

“It is a really beautiful card,” Roman said with admiration. “Patton, you really did outdid yourself!”

Logan couldn’t help but agree — the design was hand-drawn rather than Patton’s traditional digital-print cards. It was a simplistic design of a watercolour garden, with a small bee flying above the flowers. The message inside the card and on the front of the card was written in calligraphy.

“Why thank you!” Patton said proudly, beaming. “Worked on it all day! I was going to digitally design it, but this one was special, so I whipped out the good ol’ watercolour set! I guess you can say I  _wet_  all out!”

“This is...beautiful,” Logan murmured. He looked up at Patton. “Thank you, Patton. Truly. You did not have to go through all that effort for me.”

“There’s more!” Patton said, clapping his hands together. “Open the box! Open the box!”

“Alright, alright,” Logan said, pulling the box closer to him, “there is no need to yell.”

“Sorry,” Patton immediately said with a meek smile. Logan unwrapped the box and neatly set the ribbon to the side. He unwrapped the box and opened the lid. His eyes widened.

Inside was a silver replica of his flower shop, situated on a green platform.  _“Aster’s”_  was carved into a small sign on the mini-version of his shop.

“Wow,” Virgil murmured. He looked up at Patton. “I didn’t know you got him... _this_.”

Logan was speechless.

“I got it from Aunt Margie!” Patton answered Virgil. Logan could feel Roman’s sly stare on him. “Remember how she made all those silver statues for the loot-bags at her wedding? I asked her three weeks ago to make one for Logan’s shop! I got it in the mail yesterday morning.”

“I thought you just found out my birthday this morning,” Logan finally spoke up. Patton blushed.

“Heh, it was supposed to be for Christmas,” Patton said meekly, “but she ended up finishing early, so I figured I could just think of another Christmas gift for you.”

“Christmas is...is in eleven months.” Logan frowned. “And...and you met me four weeks ago.”

“Never a wrong time for Christmas!” Patton winked. “Or _friendship!_ ”

“It is a marvellous gift indeed!” Roman spoke up when Logan failed to do so.

Logan cleared his throat, adjusting his tie.

“T-Thank you,” he managed to say. “This...this has to be the best gift I have ever received.”

“It is?!” Patton shrieked happily.

“It is?!” Roman said at the same time. “What happened to my ‘pinch my bud’ shirt? Or the gift of my  _friendship?!_ ”

“Shut up and make a face of agreement, Princey,” Virgil said with a roll of his eyes.

“It really is,” Logan said honestly, carefully setting the model back into the box. “It encompasses a multitude of thought and talent — it will be situated proudly on the top shelf of my wall. I am sure many customers will appreciate the work as well. Send my regards to your aunt — this is truly an amazing feat.”

“I mean, it’s a building, not a foot,” Patton joked.

“I mean— ah, nevermind.” Logan smiled at Patton. “Thank you again, Patton.”

“Aww, bring it in!” Patton said, flinging himself onto Logan and wrapping him in a tight hug. Roman and Virgil exchanged smug looks.

~~Logan prayed that Patton could not feel his heart race.~~

Instead of saying anything else, he nervously hugged Patton back.

“Well that was cute,” Virgil said with a smirk as the two pulled back. Logan failed to notice before, but Patton was blushing as well.

His heart raced even faster.

“Well, I guess this means we can have cake now too, fellas!” Roman said, standing up. “Logan, throw on your new shirt and we can all grab a slice of cake! Who’s with me?”

“I am,” Virgil said, getting up on his feet as well. “I am starving.”

“Same-sies!” Patton exclaimed with a small smile. He stood up, and extended a hand towards Logan, who blinked in confusion.

“Come on, Lo!” he chirped. “You have to blow out the candles after all!”

Logan felt himself  _smile_.

* * *

A movie—Logan can’t remember which one—was projected onto wall in the karaoke corner, and the Patton, Roman, and Virgil were all surrounding him, leaning against the bottom of the couches and lying down on the blankets and pillows Patton had supplied. Bottles of beer surrounded the four — or at least, surrounded  _Roman_.

“Okay,” Roman said dramatically, completely ignoring the film, “ _Virgil_.”

“I really don’t want to,” Virgil groaned.

“Oh come on, Virge!” Patton said cheerily. “We’re all staying the night here anyway, we might as well have a little fun! Think of it like a sleepover!”

Roman batted his eyelashes at Virgil. He sighed loudly.

“What is your question, Roman,” Virgil said in monotone voice, slightly annoyed. Roman’s eyes lit up at the response.

“Okay, so would you rather kiss me, or—”

“I would rather jump off a bridge,” Virgil grumbled. “Next?”

Roman pulled his bottle of beer back, making a high-pitched offended noise.

“How  _dare_  you!” he gasped. “I’ll have you know that I am an excellent kisser!”

Roman leaned in playfully just to prove a point, and Logan stifled a laugh, eyes still fixated on  the screen. Patton was giggling too, twirling the neck of an empty beer bottle in between in his fingers.

“The only thing you’re excellent at is being a lightweight,” Virgil deadpanned, pulling back slightly and trying to cover the sudden blush on his face.

“Ooh, I’ll go!” Patton exclaimed loudly, raising his hand up in the air. Logan, still focused on the screen, pulled Patton’s hand down. He giggled again.

“Logan!” Patton cheered. Logan turned to face him.

“Patton, you now have my attention.”

“Would you rather kiss a cow, or marry a giraffe?” Patton asked eagerly.

Roman bursted into uncontrollable laughter, curling into a small ball on the floor. Virgil rolled his eyes, sipping a bit of his beer. Logan gave Patton a half-assumed smile.

“Kiss a cow,” he answered; “it is temporary, and it only lasts for about less than a second. There are no long-term repercussions of kissing a cow, other than the possibility of an illness. I have a strong immune system.”

“Wowie, Pouty McSpecs over here answered a ridiculous question without...questioning it!” Roman slurred, taking a swig of his beer before setting it down dramatically and letting out a loud, relaxed sigh. His eyes widened.

“Ooh!” Roman shot his hand up in the air. “I have another one! Another brilliant question for the brilliant  _Pitter-Patton!_ ”

“God, he is a mess when he’s wasted,” Virgil muttered.

“He hasn’t drank nearly enough,” Logan hummed, taking a small sip from his bottle of beer. “He is still exactly the same as per usual. Except he’s a little more...heightened.”

“Now Roman, don’t go hoggin’ all the questions,” Patton said, beaming at Logan. “Besides, it’s his turn to ask one!”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Um, that will not be necessary, Patton. Roman is free to take my question in order to ask you his.”

“Aw, if you say so!” Patton eagerly faced Roman. “Tell me, tell me!”

“Alright.” Roman clumsily pointed the neck of his bottle at Patton. “ _Patton_. Would you rather have plain ol’ vanilla-as-cream sex; or would you rather have steamy, kinky, all-out sex... _extravaganza_?”

Virgil spit out his drink upon seeing Patton’s face flush red. Logan looked horrified.

“Roman!” he scolded.

“What?” Roman slurred, taking another swig of his drink. “I’m drunk, I can say things like that!”

“Jesus Christ, Princey…” Virgil muttered.

Noticing that Patton was still speechless, Logan sighed.

“Patton, you have no obligation to respond to that...ridiculous question.” Patton, to Logan’s surprise, laughed, sipping his beer.

“Not a problem, Lo!” Patton said cheerily. He giggled, adding, “Honestly I am probably tipsy enough myself to answer that question.”

“Ooh, goody!” Roman leaned forward, eagerly waiting Patton’s answer. However, he leant a bit too far and he ended up falling into Virgil’s lap. Virgil did his best not to blush and he looked straight ahead.

“In all honesty, I am a vanilla dude,” Patton answered nonchalantly. Logan was very close to displaying a similar reaction to Virgil’s from earlier. “Nothing against the BDSM community—I am sure them and their partners enjoy it as much as the next guy—and I certainly don’t judge them at all. They’re great. It’s all...great.”

Roman’s giggle did not help Logan, who was red in the face.

“I suppose I’m not really comfortable with the whole ‘rough’ sex thing,” Patton continued. “I’m actually demisexual, so I don’t even experience sexual attraction unless it’s someone I really care about, which I guess is what I feel that kind of stuff is supposed to be; a loving, intimate moment with someone you really  _really_  care about. I don’t think you need to mark any sort of bruise on someone’s skin to show them you love ‘em.” 

The room fell silent as Patton took a small sip of his drink. Logan blinked, unsure of what to say.

Unfortunately for all of them, Roman had a few ideas.

“By great Odin's eyepatch!” he exclaimed, startling everyone. “That’s real nifty of you to share, Patton!”

“Why thank you, Roman!” Patton giggled. Virgil and Logan exchanged confused looks.

“Weird question, Pat,” Virgil blurted out, “but have you ever had sex with Heather?”

Logan’s eyes widened, and so did Patton’s. 

The room went quiet.

“To answer my own question,” Roman said loudly, breaking the silence “I am one wild, kinky  _by-atch._ ”

He winked at Virgil, who immediately buried his red face in his knees. Patton laughed, and Logan face-palmed.

“I think that is enough alcohol consumption for tonight,” Logan said, reaching over to try and grab the bottle out of Roman’s hand. Roman pulled back defensively.

“Hey, quit it,  _Thorn Ragnarok_ ,” Roman slurred. “Are you just mad that Patton doesn’t like it rough and you’re going to have to tone it down when you two, ya know, do—”

“That is quite enough out of you, Roman,” Logan murmured, watching Virgil, once embarrassed, now muffling his laugh in between his knees. Patton was blushing behind his bottle beside Roman.

“Come on, don’t be such a—  _argh!_ ”

Roman let out a startled yelp as his elbow knocked over the bottle Patton was holding mid-drink. The beer spilled onto the top of Patton’s chest.

“Goodness, Roman,” Logan said, quickly reeling back before he could get wet too. Virgil stood up and rushed to the counter to grab some tissues. Logan helped Patton up as Virgil went back with a handful of napkins. Patton smiled thankfully, quickly wiping some of the beer off his neck.

“Yikes, sorry, Pat!” Roman said, stumbling up to his feet. “I guess I’m really clumsy! Regally clumsy, that is.”

“Not a problem, Roman!” Patton chuckled. “I’m gonna  _beer_  okay!”

“I believe you mean ‘be’.”

“It was a pun, Lo,” Virgil deadpanned, and went over to help Roman stand up without falling down. Logan’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and he nodded. Patton wiped the part of his shirt that got soaked in beer and Logan smiled sympathetically, sneaking a glance at the movie that was long forgotten.

“I can offer you the shirt that Roman gave me,” Logan said.

“Nah, that won’t be necessary!” Patton chirped. “But thank you, Lo! I appreciate it tons.”

It was in that moment, as Virgil was busy helping Roman, that Logan realized that the spill had unearthed something strange on Patton’s neck.

It was a... _bruise_.

“I’m going to go grab some more drinks from the fridge!” Patton said, heading towards the front counter. “Anyone want another beer? Or something else?”

“I’ll take a be—”

“Nothing for Roman,  _thanks,_ ” Virgil said sternly, glaring at a suddenly-pouty Roman. Patton chuckled, making his way to the counter and opening the fridge. 

“I’ll join you!” Logan blurted out, which earned weird stares from Patton, Virgil, and Roman (though Roman’s stare was weird by default, Logan noted, given his situation). However, Patton didn’t oppose Logan’s company, so Logan quickly rushed over to Patton’s side.

Feeling a sudden rush of anxiety, he started grabbing a plateful of leftover  _“Eat Me!”_  square cakes from the display case. Patton hummed a quiet tune before Logan said it.

“What is on your neck, Patton?” he asked.

Patton froze, and slowly turned around, closing the fridge. Logan began to panic ~~, what did he say wrong this time? It was a bad idea, _this was a bad idea_~~.

Patton, instead, smiled obliviously.

“What do you mean, Lo?” he asked. Logan moved closer, and touched Patton’s neck.

Patton flinched, and pulled away quickly.  
Logan’s hand reeled back as if it was burnt.

“There’s...a bruise.” Logan cleared his throat nervously. “On your...your neck. I know it is nothing of my concern, but I am just...well, for lack of a better word,  _concerned_.”

Patton’s hand flew to his neck, and he paused, before breaking into a wide smile.

“Oh, that’s just from a lil’, um,  _playtime_  with Heather,” Patton answered meekly. “I covered it up with some foundation this morning, but I suppose the beer must’ve washed it all off. Nothing to worry about though!”

Patton opened the fridge once more and continued to grab drinks as if nothing happened.

Logan blinked, confused. Patton’s words from earlier rushed back to him.

_“I don’t think you need to mark any sort of bruise on someone’s skin to show them you love ‘em.”_

“So you have then,” Logan blurted out. Patton turned to face Logan, who swallowed nervously. “You have had...sexual intercourse. With Heather, I mean. I-If...if you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

Patton blushed, and fell silent for a split second ~~, long enough for Logan to think about how _stupid_  he was. Was  _he_  drunk?~~.

“You got me!” Patton said instead, blushing.

~~Logan’s heart deflated.~~

“You must care about her a lot,” Logan murmured under his breath.

“Pardon?” Patton asked. “Didn’t quite catch that!”

“Oh, it is nothing, Patton,” Logan quickly said. “Um, I apologize for bringing this up. I...I should be saying that it was commendable what you did...um, ‘coming out’ as a demisexual as blatantly as you did back there. I am aware that sort of information is usually difficult to disclose, so I...I consider you very brave, Patton.”

“Aw, Lo!” Patton playfully tapped Logan’s shoulder, smiling. “I honestly think it was nice to say it out loud, in front of actual people!  _Made it feel a bit more real._ ”

Logan frowned. “Is there a reason for you to feel as though it is not?”

Silence.

“Maybe it’s the alcohol,” Patton hummed, ignoring Logan’s question. He chuckled quietly, staring at the beer bottles in his hand. “I suppose I’m a bit more tipsy than I thought, heh!”

“Right,” Logan said quietly.

Patton was staring down at his feet, and Logan scolded himself for making things weird and uncomfortable ~~ _, how stupid of him to do such a thing._~~

“Um, shall we return?” Logan asked, breaking the silence. “I...I have a plateful of small cakes. Perhaps we can feed that to Roman instead of more  _Heineken_.”

Patton’s laugh almost hurt to hear.

“Good idea!” he chirped, walking around the counter, alongside Logan. “Say, we should watch  _Tangled!_ ”

“Satisfactory,” Logan hummed, still distracted from earlier.

They returned to the karaoke corner to see Virgil carrying a limp, yet  _rambling_ , Roman in his arms. He looked up darkly at Logan and Patton, who were trying to suppress laughter.

“Yeah,  _har har har,_  very funny,” Virgil said sarcastically. Patton let out a small snort that, surprisingly, made Logan giggle before covering his mouth quickly.

Roman must’ve found the idea of Logan laughing hilarious, because he began to laugh as well.

“Can you guys stop laughing and, like, put some pillows down or something so I can lay  _Sleeping Doofus_ over here down?”

“You set up the movie,” Patton said, setting down the drinks and facing Logan, “and I’ll help Virgil with Princey?”

“An adequate plan indeed,” Logan said, placing the plate of cakes beside the drinks. 

He went over to the small hole in the wall near the screen, built in to make it seem fit for a small fireplace, but actually served the purpose of holding Roman’s laptop so that it was easily accessible for customers to choose their songs for karaoke. 

He paused the movie and went through Roman’s playlist of  _Disney_  movies in his “downloads” folder before finally finding  _Tangled_. He pressed play, and the projector played the opening sequence.

_“This...is the story of how I died.”_

Logan scoffed at how ridiculous the line was as he turned around to see that Roman was lying down, face first on the pillows and blankets Patton had spread out. Virgil and Patton were sitting on both sides of Roman, with Roman being squished in the middle.

He chuckled, and sat himself down beside Patton, whose eyes were now fixated on the screen.

Logan couldn’t care less about when Rapunzel’s life would begin, but rather focused on the small bruise that was still visible on Patton’s neck.

He watched Patton break into a small smile, and Logan’s heart broke a little more.

He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol  ~~or the fact that he deeply cared about Patton~~ , but he made it his personal mission to uncover the truth.

For now, he decided, he let Patton lean against his shoulder — it was the least he could do.

* * *

Logan unlocked the doors to his shop once more, hurrying inside and flicking the light switch on. He had momentarily left the café to get a sample bouquet of blue and white holly flowers he meant to show Patton, who asked Logan to find some decorative flowers for him to “brighten up the shop.”

_(holly flowers = domestic happiness)_

Logan passed by the front counter on his way to the back room to get the bouquet when he breezed past his stray flower catalogue. The wind from his passing flipped a few pages over, and revealed a small fold in the corner of the page. Logan frowned, looking at it closer before remembering the intention of the folded corner — to remind him of the idea he had earlier.

His eyes glanced at bundle of sunflowers along his walls, and his mind went back to the movie that they were watching.

A golden flower.  
A golden  _lily-like_  flower.

Logan immediately went to the backroom and pulled out a piece of paper from his desk drawer. He grabbed a pencil from his mug filled with writing utensils, and began to scribble down notes.

_**Golden Flower (Name Unknown):** _

  * _Resembles the fictional “Magical Golden Flower” from the movie Tangled.  
_
  * _Can possibly be obtained by modifying a yellow/gold lily’s molecular structure to include luciferin (chemical compound that produce light used by fireflies, jellyfish, etc.) and/or bioluminescence(???) → a golden lily that glows in the dark, similar to the fictional “Magical Golden Flower.”  
_
  * _High likelihood of extensive research and will require a multitude of attempts at hybridizing lilies with required parent plants. (Possible need for grafting)  
_
  * _Perhaps consult Jen about it, see if she has any ideas_



Thirty minutes pass before Logan’s phone began to buzz, and Logan snapped out of his daze. He looked at his phone to see a text from Patton, asking where he was, and then he looked down at his paper, that had several poorly written notes and ideas. He sighed, folding the corner down on one of the pages to remind himself to make it neater.

He texted Patton that he would return in a moment, and texted Jen—a classmate from university who majored in biology—about the idea.

All he got was a smiley face back from Patton and, a few minutes later, a question mark from Jen. He sighed, deciding to return to the idea later when his mind wasn’t half-influenced by alcohol and wasn’t fully-influenced by sleep deprivation.

He hastily scribbled “For Patton” at the bottom of the page and felt an odd sense of  _pride_  in himself.

Logan grabbed the bouquet of blue and white holly flowers and closed the lights, locking the door to his shop and letting the fresh air hit him softly.

He smiled;  
oh, how fortunate was he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	10. Monardas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Logan and Patton grow closer (then completely fall apart),  
> and Roman and Virgil completely fall apart (then grow closer).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: wearing, mentions of the f word (the homophobic slur), mentions of abuse, mentions of toxic relationships, referenced self-harm, anxiety, descriptive panic attacks 
> 
> a/n- i have been feeling all sorts of things lately (but have been writing all sorts of things lately, feel free to search through the ‘gabbie writes things’ tag #spon✨ ) hence why this chapter is a bit late. buuuut it’s super long so you’ll probably hate me for it either way. this one is a loooong doozy (which now that i think of it, is not something fanders want rn, after the last sanders sides video wh oops). i just had a lot to say in this one. happy 10 chapters by the way, friendos! what a roller-coaster you’re about to go on :’))
> 
> disclaimer: i feel like the quality of my characterization dropped in this chapter for the sake of the plot, so if anyone seems OOC in this chapter, that’s why, lol. 
> 
> [and p.s - i refer to what happens in this part of the clip (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IBknx2p9Lw&feature=youtu.be&t=1m16s) when virgil is playing a song from la la land. you’ll know when. and if you don’t, that means you didn’t watch the movie, or need a refresher, so stop reading and watch that masterpiece]
> 
> ***[this is not a fluffy chapter; please be careful when you’re reading this and heed all warnings — i want you to be safe, reader.]***

_“monardas  =  your desires are unbearable”_ **  
**

~*~

There was a man screaming at him.

Roman fought the urge to rub the bridge of his nose, as he didn’t want to seem like an asshole, even if it was taking all his willpower to not punch this guy  in the face. Roman had been standing here, listening to the man yell at him for two minutes too long.

Roman knew that if Logan was here, the conversation would’ve ended in a solid three seconds. But for some reason, Roman was not in the mood to fight back. It was nearly nine o’clock, the man smelt like a fresh bottle of beer, and all Roman wanted to do was go home.

Because the day had been long. And it definitely wasn’t one of Roman’s best days either. He woke up twenty minutes late with a slight hangover. One of his best employees left to pursue a role in a new play. A blender was knocked over and he wasn’t about to fire the new guy, so now he had $700 less in his own wallet. A kid cried in the karaoke corner for the entire thirty minutes it took for Roman to fix his laptop. There was a break-up on the second floor between a young couple that probably broke Roman’s heart more than it broke either of theirs.

And now there was a man screaming at him.

He didn’t even remember why the man was yelling at him. It might’ve been because Roman asked him to repeat the last item of his order, or it might’ve been because the guy was clearly looking for a coffee when he should’ve been looking for something to cure a forecoming hangover. Roman wasn’t entirely sure if the man had mistaken his café for a bar, but he figured that now was not the time to bring that retort up.

Noticing that the man was probably bothering some of the late-night customers, Roman knew that he would have to confront him eventually. He just didn’t know  _how_.

“And  _seriously!_ ” the man continued to yell. “How  _fucking_  hard is it to listen to an order?! That’s your  _job!_ This isn’t something I should be tolerating — I am the customer!”

“Sir, I understand that,” Roman tried to say. “Now if we can just calm ourselves down, perhaps we can come to a s—”

“Calm down?!” the man slurred loudly. Roman grimaced. “ _Loooooook_. I don’t know how an idiotic  _faggot_ like you could ever run such a dysss— dysfunctional business like this—”

Roman’s breath hitched.

“I am sorry, sir, but I am going to have to ask you to leave.” Roman barely moved an inch, but his voice was firm; it almost scared him.

The man took a step closer to the counter.

“Or  _what_.” His breath nearly made Roman gag. A flash of anger rushed through him. 

He subconsciously pulled up his sleeves, as if he was ready for a fight. However, he realized the mistake too late and the man grinned.

“ _Oh_.” The man laughed loudly, and it echoed in Roman’s ears. Roman went pale, and he slammed his sleeves down. The man’s laugh intensified, and Roman swallowed thickly.

“You’re one of those people.” Roman fought off every urge to  ~~cry~~  punch this man in the face. “Now I get it. You’re not stupid, you’re just  _pathetic_. Can’t even run a proper business because you’re some broken  _fuck_ - _up_.”

The man hiccuped, continuing. “You’re…you’re just a dumb  _fag_. A dumb—  _a dumb, weak fag.”_

“I believe I asked you to leave,” Roman gritted out. “If you say one more word, I will have no choice but to call authorities, or proceed to more… _drastic_  consequences.”

The man threw his hands up in the air defensively. Roman began to grow nervous, noticing that he and the man’s dispute began to draw up a crowd. Roman sighed.

“Fine by me!” the man slurred. He hissed, more quietly, “I hope you enjoy your petty pity party tonight.”

~~The words stung.  
It cut deeper than any knife could. ~~

~~Roman wanted to cry.~~  
~~Or scream.~~  
~~_Or both._~~

The words were harsh, sure, but Roman paid no attention to it. Besides, he had other things to do, and honestly fighting this man was not going to make it on his list.

Because he had to pay for that blender,  
and possibly a new laptop;

and he had to find a new barista,  
and a new love story to follow;

and he had to check on Logan,  
(and shove  _the rule_  into that walking thesaurus’ face  
because he was worried about him too much,  
and he didn’t want to see him get hurt  ~~again~~ ).

Because there was just too much to do,  
and letting a stranger’s words hurt him was nowhere close to making it on his list.

As the man stumbled out, Roman gave out a sigh of relief, leaning against the counter whilst getting sympathetic stares from customers. He faced the staircase to see a familiar face coming towards him. He buried his face in his hands.

“Hey,” Virgil said quietly.

“Don’t look at me,” Roman said, his voice muffled by his hands, “I am  _embarrassed_.”

“Embarrassed?” Virgil echoed. “Roman, I heard what that asshole said to you — if I was any better at fighting, I would’ve gone down here and punched him myself.”

Roman’s head immediately shot up to face a confused Virgil.

“You heard  _everything?”_  he asked nervously.

“I heard enough,” Virgil said, his voice more quiet than cold. Roman felt tempted to worry about what Virgil could’ve heard, but he decided to let it go for now.

“I could’ve handled it better,” Roman said, putting his cheek in his hand and gesturing frustratedly at the door. “The lack of bravery in my approach was…was  _atrocious!”_

“That’s a lot of big words there, Princey,” Virgil said smugly.

“Still!” Roman exclaimed. “I just wish I did something.”

“Roman…”

“He caused such a ruckus down here — surely I could’ve done more than just roll up my sleeves and give a half-assed attempt at…at shooing him away!”

“You did exactly what you needed to do,” Virgil replied simply. “You know, you don’t always have to be the hero.”

Roman looked up at Virgil, and held his stare for a few moments.

~~For a split second, Roman felt _disappointed_  in himself.~~

“Right,” Roman murmured quietly.

It was silent for a while. Roman hated it. Virgil sighed.

“You should go home,” Virgil said quietly. “You’re probably tired out of your mind. Everyone’s gone by now anyway, and Valerie taught me the whole ‘closing up’ routine, so I can close up myself.”

“Are you sure?” Roman asked nervously. “I mean, there’s a lot that needs to be turned off, and things need to be prepared for tomorrow morning, and—”

“I got this, Princey. Don’t sweat it.” Roman gave Virgil a grateful smile, walking around the corner and giving Virgil an unexpected hug. Startled, Virgil visibly tensed in Roman’s arms.

“Thank you, Virgil,” Roman said softly, his voice muffled by Virgil’s sweater. “I…I appreciate it.”

Virgil blinked, unsure of what to do, before relaxing into Roman’s grasp and hugging back.

“Have a good night, Ro,” Virgil said, slowly pulling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow at 5?”

“I’ll see you then,” Roman said as he walked out the door, giving Virgil one last smile. Virgil managed to smile back, and as soon as Roman was out of sight, he let out a long sigh — it was nights like this when he regretted not paying attention to Valerie’s many rambles.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

A few weeks later, Logan found himself tapping quietly against the surface of his counter, watching the seconds tick by.

It was a rather slow day—Logan was aware that not many events involving flowers occur on Thursdays—and other than the occasional customer looking for a last minute “please forgive me” or “please love me” gift, Logan felt  _bored_.

He knew that there was a multitude of things he could be doing right now to pass time that would promote some kind of productivity—he could put the new arrival flowers into pots, start planning a display for Valentine’s day, or he could even water the plants (again)—but Logan just found himself… _stuck_.

He was stuck on a lot of things, really.

For starters, he was stuck on what to do with Patton’s flower. He was unsure where the research was going, Jen was still running tests so progress was at a standstill.

He was  ~~nervous~~  stuck on how to tell Patton that he  _knew_. He was stuck on how to tell him that he knew what might be happening and he was stuck on how to tell Patton that he should  _run_.

All of these thoughts, and all of these places in which Logan was hopelessly stuck, forced him to continue to  _tap, tap, tap_ ; until a customer graced their presence in his empty shop.

His desires were  _unbearable_  at this point.   
He wanted to work.   
He wanted to tell Patton that he just wanted him to be okay.  
He wanted to check in on Roman because he doesn’t give that man enough time in a day.  
He wanted to get to know Virgil a little more because he just seemed like a fascinating person.  
He wanted to tell Patton that he would do anything for him.  
~~He wanted to stop feeling.~~  
He wanted to know when the next  _damn_  customer would come.   
He wanted to know if the roses on the Valentine’s display should be white or red.

 _He wanted too much,_  
and he was unsure on how to get any of it.

Much to his relief, the door swung open and Logan forced a small smile, hoping for an escape from all his  _thinking_  for a while.

Unfortunately, his vision focused on the familiar face and his mind immediately fell back into its anxiety-ridden thought pattern.

“Hiya, Logan!” Patton chirped, flashing a bright smile at Logan, who returned the warm smile back.

“Salutations, Patton,” he murmured, trying to remain calm  ~~and slow down his heartbeat, dammit~~. He cleared his throat.

“Not like I dislike your presence,” he began, “but you are here at an unusual time. You were here at around noon as per usual, and now you have returned once more at…2 pm. Is there any particular reason for your visit? Are you in dire need of assistance?”

Patton laughed. “Nope! Just wanted to drop by — I hope you aren’t  _dired_  of me comin’ over here!”

Logan frowned. “I believe the correct word is ‘tired’.”

“Oh, I know!” Patton giggled. “It’s just that you said  _dire_ , which sorta rhymes with  _tired_ …”

“Ah, I see.” Logan pushed up his glasses. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Just wanted to see if you needed any help ‘round the good ol’ flower shop!” Patton chirped. “I got my friend, Brittney, to run the shop for the afternoon. I guess I wanted to see if  _you_  were in dire need of assistance, heh!”

Logan spluttered, flustered, “You…you want to assist  _me?_ ”

“Well of course!” Patton beamed. “There isn’t anything I would rather want to do then help out my favourite florist in the world.”

Logan was unsure what to think of… _that_.

“Um,”—Logan cleared his throat—“you are welcome to stay and assist me. I have a few minor tasks that have to be completed, and business is quite slow today, so we should have ample time to…um…complete them.”

“Super!” Patton cheered, startling Logan. “Man, I never really worked in a flower shop before! I am really excited!”

“It is similar to working in any business, really,” Logan hummed, walking around the counter and leading Patton to the back room. “It has its respective duties and tasks that are in need of completion, likewise to any other store.”

“So what do you want me to do firs—  _wowza!_ ”

Logan frowned, stopping in his tracks as he watched Patton walked around the room.

“Is everything alright, Patton?” Logan asked.

“Um, yeah!” Patton turned around to face Logan, his eyes filled with excitement. “It’s just…this place is really beautiful!”

Logan blinked, confused.

“P-Pardon?”

“I mean, the flower pots hanging from the ceiling?” Patton spun one around lightly with a small smile. “Those are  _gorgeous!_ And you have little bonsai trees, and mini-palm trees, and—  _holy crackers_ , is your ceiling a  _window?!_ ”

Logan nodded, smiling. “Yes, it is. I installed it a few years back to allow extra light into the room. I have own a small greenhouse approximately seventeen minutes from here — it’s just on the outskirts of town. I used to have all my deliveries sent there, and I also used it to keep plants and herbs and flowers that are unable to grow properly in the store due to the lack of light. However, driving to and from the greenhouse to pick up the imports is a lot of effort, so I decided that the…ceiling-window would be useful. I have the deliveries sent here, and I occasionally travel to the greenhouse to pick up and drop off certain plants. I actually ha—”

Logan paused abruptly, looking at Patton who was eagerly listening to him. He blushed.

“I, um, apologize.” He coughed quietly. “I am afraid I tend to get a bit talkative when it comes to matters of this sort. I am sorry for rambling, you must be tired of listening to me speak on a subject of general disinterest.”

“General disinterest?” Patton echoed. “Logan, I think it’s very interesting to hear how you work! Plus you seem real passionate about it — you know you can talk to me about anything!”

~~Logan fought off the urge to run up to Patton and _kiss him_.~~

“I appreciate that, Patton,” Logan said, looking down shyly.

“Say, if you ever drive up to the greenhouse anytime soon,” Patton continued to say, walking around the room, “let me know! I would love to tag along and get out of town; see some bloomin’ flowers. I am sure your greenhouse is just filled with such beautiful plants!”

“Heh, I definitely  _plant_  on bringing you with me next time I need to go,” Logan hummed, amused, going to his desk to to sort out some stray papers out on his desk when he heard a loud gasp. He turned around to see Patton with his hands over his mouth.

“Y-You…” Logan swore the poor man was shaking. “You made…a  _pun?_ ”

Logan’s eyes widened.

“Um, no I didn’t,” he said quickly, dropping the papers and pointing at Patton warningly, slowly backing up as Patton slowly stepped towards him.

“You said plant!”

“I said  _plan_.” Logan emphasized the ‘n’ loudly. “ _Plannnn_.”

“You work with plants!” Patton was beginning to get excited, his steps quickly turned into happy skips. “Erego… _you said a pun!_ ”

“You can’t tell anyone about this!” Logan said sternly, his back pressed against the door. He brushed his hair back nervously, a bright, red blush spreading across his cheeks. Against his will, a smile grew on his face.

“Roman is going to _fr-eak!_ ” Patton laughed.

Not being able to control himself, Logan smiled smugly.

“If I am unable to bargain your silence,” Logan said slowly, “then I suppose I will have to consider the information Virgil disclosed to me a few days ago.”

Patton frowned. “What?”

Without warning, Logan lunged towards Patton, aiming to tickle his chest.

“That you’re”—Logan smiled widely—“incredibly ticklish!”

Patton squeaked in surprise, quickly pulling back from Logan. A flash of fear ran across Logan’s face, and for a split second, he thought he did something wrong.

~~His mind went back to the _bruise_.~~

A beat of silence passed.

“L-Logan…” Patton stammered, holding his chest. Logan gulped, straightening up and adjusting his tie.

“I…I apologize,” Logan said nervously, “I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. That was incredibly childish and foolish of me to do, not to mention immature and reckless. You could’ve been hurt, and consent was  _definitely_  not taken into consideration—”

“Logan,” Patton said again, and Logan shut up quickly. To his surprise, Patton shyly  _smiled_. 

“You know, you don’t need to ask me if you want to tickle me. I mean, I appreciate the concern, but you definitely don’t need to — I was just surprised, that’s all!”

Logan blinked. “O-Oh?”

“Of course!” Patton grinned wickedly, and slowly walked towards Logan once more. “Besides, I just wanted to warn you…”

Logan blinked, and without warning, Patton quickly swept past Logan and began tickling his back. Logan jumped forward in surprise, letting a giggle slip out. His hand flew to his mouth immediately.

“Roman disclosed a bit of information to me too,” Patton said, resting his head around Logan’s shoulder so he could look at him  ~~and his growing blush~~  from behind him. “I guess you can say it’s time to get you  _back_.”

Logan quickly slid out of Patton’s grasp, and dashed to the other side of the room.

“I am afraid you are going to have to catch me first!” Logan said and he  _laughed_. Patton must’ve been startled at the noise, but he grinned nonetheless, quickly chasing after him.

For the first time in a long time,  
_Logan felt free._

Because as he was running around his back room like a child, with Patton not too far behind him, he felt as if he was being given the one thing he never often had —  _fun_.

“I’m gonna get you!” Patton exclaimed. “I will, be- _leaf_  me!”

Logan found himself standing on one side of a table filled with plants, with Patton facing him on the opposite side. Logan faked a step to the left, and Patton moved accordingly. Logan grinned and continued to run right, escaping Patton once more.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that!” Logan laughed, sprinting out of the back room and into the shop. He continued to giggle, his eyes closed as Patton chased after him.

However, he immediately stopped when he opened his eyes and saw someone at the door.

“M-Mrs. Harrington,” he stammered, and felt Patton slam right into his back from running too fast. Patton let out a small “oof!” and they were both face-to-face with Mrs. Harrington’s smug smile.

“Hello, dear.” She crossed her arms, her cane pressed against her chest. “Have I…interrupted something?”

“O-Of course not!” Logan adjusted his lopsided glasses, and when he turned to face Patton—who was still smiling obliviously—he elbowed him softly, urging him to do the same.

“Ohh,” Patton whispered, adjusting his glasses as well. Logan flashed an apologetic smile towards Mrs. Harrington.

“I apologize for the unprofessional behaviour you have just witnessed.” Logan adjusted his tie. “I…I was just having a small dispute with my acquaintance, Mr. Sanders.”

“Ah, none of that Mr. Sanders stuff!” Patton chirped, rushing over to Mrs. Harrington and extending a hand forward. “It is lovely to see you again, Esmeralda!

Mrs. Harrington giggled, and it was only then when Logan remembered that their paths have crossed before.

“You too, Patton!” she replied with a wide smile. “I was surprised that you weren’t not at your shop, but I don’t know why I didn’t figure out that you’d be here instead!”

Logan blushed. “His presence in my shop is not uncommon.”

“Yeah!” Patton exclaimed. “I come ‘round here all the time! I am glad I didn’t miss ya!”

Logan fought off the urge to roll his eyes at Patton’s over-enthusiastic behaviour.

“I am glad I got to see you too!” Mrs. Harrington said with a smile almost bright as Patton’s. She faced Logan and her smile turned into a coy smirk. “And it’s nice to see you brightening Mr. Fray over here. I don’t think I’ve heard laughter out of him in the two years I’ve been in this shop.”

Logan’s blush intensified.

“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Harrington?” Logan managed to ask. Mrs. Harrington beamed brightly at him.

“I was looking for a bouquet for my husband,” Mrs. Harrington replied, walking around the shop. “It’s our fortieth anniversary tomorrow and I was wondering if there were any flowers other than traditional red roses.”

“While I am a traditionalist, Mrs. Harrington,” Logan hummed, “though I may have another kind of flower that would be appropriate for your needs.”

Patton watched as he led Mrs. Harrington along the wall filled with flowers. He frowned, looking up at the flowers lined up on shelves. He glanced at Patton and smiled sheepishly, trying to remain professional after their little “game.”

“Patton,” he said, “do you mind grabbing the ladder in the backroom?”

“You got it, Lo!” Patton said, jogging to the back. Mrs. Harrington chuckled, which immediately caught Logan’s attention.

“You like him!” Mrs. Harrington whispered. Logan went beet red.

“I-I do not.” Logan hated sounding  ~~like such a liar~~  so defensive because Mrs. Harrington could see right through him.

“I think you do!” she said with a sly grin. “I don’t think I have ever seen someone who made you smile that much. Hell, I didn’t even know you had a smile as bright as the one I just saw.”

“Mrs. Harrington…” Logan trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Now I know I ain’t your mama,” Mrs. Harrington continued, “but if I was, I’d poke my cane on your arse and force you a lil’ closer to Patton over there. I reckon you’d be lovely together.”

“He is in a long-term relationship,” Logan hissed quietly, adjusting his tie. “And I do not have an interest in him.”

“Interest in who?” Patton said, and Logan jumped, turning around to see Patton holding a ladder behind him. Logan blushed furiously, watching as Mrs. Harrington stifle a laugh behind her hand.

“No one,” he gritted through his teeth, taking the ladder from Patton a bit too quickly than he intended to. He unfolded it and began to climb. “Thank you for your assistance, Patton.”

“No problem-o!” Patton’s eyes widened and he broke into a wide grin. “Say, Logan, is this your step ladder?”

Logan frowned, stopping halfway. “Um, yes it is. That is…that is why you were able to acquire it — is this a trick question?”

“I guess you didn’t know your real ladder then!” Patton laughed. “ _Zinger!_ ”

Mrs. Harrington joined in the laughter, and Logan looked down on the two, dumbfounded.

“I do not understand.”

“Like a  _step_ -relative,” Mrs. Harrington said between laughter, “but a step- _ladder_ , a-and…and— oh, Patton, you must’ve broken me! I cannot stop laughing!”

“Yeah, if broken sounds like beautiful noises in the form of laughter,” Patton said with a wink. Mrs. Harrington patted his back with a soft giggle, and Logan rolled his eyes. He continued to climb the ladder before he got to the bouquet of flowers he wanted. He quickly picked them out and made his way down.

On the second-last step from the bottom, Logan felt himself miss a step and fall backwards with a small yelp. Patton quickly turned around and stuck out his arms, catching him in one swift motion.

~~Logan hated everything about this god-awful cliché.~~

Mrs. Harrington’s giggles only intensified, and Logan found himself looking up at Patton, who had caught him.

“You ‘ought to be more careful,” Patton said, his voice barely above a whisper. He helped Logan stand up on his feet.

~~Logan couldn’t stop his heart from racing.~~

“Thank you, Patton,” he managed to say. He faced Mrs. Harrington, who looked as smug as ever, and sighed, brushing himself off and holding up the bouquet towards the old lady.  

He was going to pretend he didn’t see the teasing glare in Mrs. Harrington’s eyes.

“Well, this is a bouquet of gladiolus flowers,” Logan said quickly, “and they are the traditional 40th wedding anniversary flower. They evoke the drama and passion of a Roman gladiator, and they symbolize strength and infatuation. They’re striking and colourful with towering stems that convey to a recipient that they pierce the giver’s heart with a strong feeling of love — perfect for celebrating a long-term relationship.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Is  _this_  satisfactory?”

A beat of silence passed.

“I don’t buy it,” Mrs. Harrington hummed, taking the flowers and winking at Logan, “but I’ll take it for now.”

Logan hated that  ~~she was right~~  he knew exactly what she was talking about,  
and it definitely wasn’t about those damn gladiolus flowers.

“I can wrap that up for ya!” Patton said happily, grabbing the bouquet of gladiolus flowers and heading to the front counter.

As he played with the wrapping dispenser installed on the side of the counter, Mrs. Harrington elbowed Logan lightly, shooting him a coy smile.

Logan crossed his arms and huffed, his cheeks redder than ever.

* * *

A few hours later, Logan came out of the back room with his jacket around his arm to see Patton hanging fairy lights above a flower display in the window. Logan blinked, watching in silence as Patton hopped off the step ladder and went to the nearby outlet, plugging in the lights and taking a few steps back to admire the work he did.

He put his hands on his hips proudly and Logan watched the lights illuminate through the window and above the white and red roses on his Valentine’s day-themed display.

The outline of Patton’s figure immediately lit up, and Logan stood there, almost dumbfounded.

Patton turned around, about to go back when he was face-to-face with Logan, who was still standing at the back of the shop. Patton grinned ~~, and it took all of Logan’s willpower not to run up to him and kiss him.~~

“Logan!” he said cheerily, rushing over to Logan and grabbing his wrist. Logan blinked at the sudden contact, following Patton who dragged him happily to the window.

“Do you like it?” Patton asked, facing Logan with wide eyes. “I thought that it’d be a nice addition, so when I ran over to my shop to close up, I was able to fish out these spare beauties in the back. They’re nice, huh?”

Logan noticed how the fairy lights reflected off Patton’s glasses, and Logan blushed, scratching the back of his neck.

“It is very lovely, Patton,” Logan said quietly, shooting a nervous smile towards Patton. “I believe it adds a romantic appeal to the display, which is appropriate for the season.”

“It does…doesn’t it?”

Patton was mere inches away from Logan’s face, the lights shining on both of them now. Patton’s fingers were brushing against the bottom of Logan’s tie, and his eyes widened. He immediately pulled back, throwing his hand over his mouth as he awkwardly coughed.

“W-Well, it is almost seven now,” Logan stammered. Patton frowned at Logan, who was quickly making his way to the counter. “I believe it would be best that I close up early, as it seems like business has died down for the day.”

“Right,” Patton said slowly, digging his hands in his pockets. He shakily smiles. “Man, time really flies over here, doesn’t it?”

“Time is unable to fly,” Logan said, popping open the cash register and to Patton’s surprise, pulled out two twenty-dollar bills. He held up the cash to Patton.

“Here is your paycheck,” Logan hummed. Patton’s eyes widened.

“Paycheck?”

“Well, yes,” Logan said as if it was obvious. “I am obligated to pay you for your service. You have basically dedicated your time to perform labour as an employee, and for that, I am thankful. You did not have to — you could have chosen to spend your day at home or at a place of relaxation, but instead chose to assist me here. As a friend, I understand you were doing it out of kindness, which I appreciate. However, as an employer, your service has deemed you worthy of a paycheck.”

To Logan’s surprise, Patton laughed.

“L-Logan!” Patton said between giggles. Logan looked at him, dumbfounded.

“I…I am perplexed as to why you are laughing.”

“I am laughing because that is  _ridiculous_!” Patton laughed. “You don’t have to pay me for helping you in here!”

“But—”

“But nothing!” Patton said, going over to Logan and pulling him into a tight hug. “You said it yourself — I did it out of kindness. Because you are my  _friend_. I  _wanted_  to help you! And it seemed like it took a bit of weight off your shoulders, which means I really  _did_  do my job! You don’t have to pay me for that sort of stuff.”

“Patton, I—”

“Say!” Patton exclaimed, pulling out of the hug. “I have a nifty idea!”

Logan, still startled from the hug, felt himself become flustered.

“N-Nifty?” he stuttered.

“How about you pay me with your time?” Patton said excitedly. “We can go out for that raincheck-ed dinner we were planning, like, a month ago!”

“I don’t believe it has been a month,” Logan began, but stopped himself when he saw Patton’s wide grin. He sighed.

“Dinner sounds lovely, Patton,” Logan said with a warm smile. “There is a small Japanese restaurant down the street, approximately fifteen minutes away from here by car. It is typically quiet there at this time, so we would get seats with ease.”

“Perfect!” Patton cheered, running over to the window display to get his jacket. “We can take my car, if that’s okay with you! I’ll drive!”

“I suppose that would be adequate,” Logan hummed, slipping on his own jacket, “counting that you won’t  _drive_  me crazy.”

Patton gasped loudly, dropping his jacket.

“ _Drive?_ ”

“I—  _shoot_.” Logan covered his mouth.

“Another pun?!” Patton shrieked, jumping up and down excitedly. “You are on  _fire_  today!”

“To think you were on a  _brake_  from teasing me today—  _oh dear God, I cannot stop,_ ” Logan said, his eyes wide. Patton laughed, wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulder and walking him out.

“It’s a habit not easily broken, Lo,” Patton said. “You just have to embrace the new pun lifestyle you are going to lead from now on.”

“Not a word of this exchange to Roman,” Logan said, quickly sliding out of Patton’s grasp to turn off the lights and lock the door from the inside. He went back out into the cold night and hesitantly let Patton wrap his arm around his shoulder.

“Shall we?” Patton said with a smile.

Logan was incapable of doing anything else but nod.

* * *

Meanwhile, Roman was in his café, lazily washing a cup saucer as he looked up at the second floor wistfully.

Virgil had been playing for quite some time now—perhaps an hour or two—non-stop, only pausing to briefly thank someone for leaving a tip or to take requests from a shy kid.

It’s been weeks now, and Virgil had taken what was going to be a temporary gig into a full-time job, coming into the café at five o’clock sharp to play until closing time. Roman, knowing about Virgil’s recent popularity at the café, had told Virgil that he could have shorter playing times if he ever got tired. However, that often didn’t stop Virgil from playing.

What made Roman feel more at ease was that Virgil seemed to enjoy it. He often walked into the shop at his usual time with a stormy expression, but one  _Black Cauldron_  and three  _Wicked_  pieces later, Virgil was smiling, his playing intensifying with every note.

Roman felt a bit selfish if he could be honest. He got to hear Virgil play every day, and he got to watch as he leaned into every note, pouring his heart into every key he pressed. He wanted it all to himself because  _listening to Virgil made his heart soar._

Roman even got to spend more time with Virgil. They spent days outside of the café, learning more about each other with every second they had together. Virgil learned that Roman can tap-dance, fox-trot, and tango. Roman learned that Virgil took ballet lessons when he was seven and can do a plié for five minutes straight. After they exchanged numbers, Roman randomly texted him pictures of shelties in fields of flowers during Virgil’s lecture; and Virgil texted Roman long strings of texts at 3 am talking about whether or not the moon landing was real, or how  _pretty the stars were._

As much as Roman loved spending time with him,  
he hated how Virgil made him  _feel_.

He made him feel like he meant the world.  
_Just like him._

“Yo, mate!” Roman snapped out of his daydream, blinking and straightening up. He looked down to see that he was still washing the now-clean cup saucer. When he turned around, he was face to face with Thomas.

“Um, hi!” he squeaked, slamming the sink switch closed. “I-I mean…y-yes, Thomas?”

“Was going to ask if you could take the customer at the front,” Thomas said, slowly lifting his head to see what Roman was staring at — or rather,  _who_.

“Of course!” Roman cleared his throat, once again assuming his outgoing  ~~totally-not-in-love~~  persona.

Thomas smiled smugly. “I’d thank you, but I feel like I’m doing you a favour — after all, you can see a lot more of him from the register.”

Roman’s jaw dropped as Thomas laughed, briskly walking past him to give someone their order. He blushed furiously — he hated when Thomas was right.

He went over to the front cashier in attempts at avoiding Thomas before he could start teasing again, but when he saw the man at the cashier, his smile faltered.

The man was tapping his foot to every measure of the song Virgil was playing— it was a song from  _La La Land_ , Roman noticed—and he was staring up at the piano on the second floor.

For some reason, the man in front of him seemed like bad news.

“Excuse me?” The man turned around upon hearing Roman speak. He shot Roman a kind smile, and Roman cleared his throat.

“Oh yes, apologies,” the man said, his voice low but still a bit loud.  _“I just got a bit distracted.”_

Roman flashed a small smile in return, putting his regal façade once more.

“Not a problem, kind sir!” he said with a big grin. “Now what can I get you on this fine evening, hmm? You seem like you’re a  _Black Cauldron_  kind of person! Or—”

“I’ll take some  _Guys and Rolls_ , actually!” the man said with a smile. “They seem delicious!”

Roman’s own smile faltered, and he felt a familiar sort of  _fear_  run through him.

“Um, sure thing, sir!” Roman said in a beat, punching in a few numbers on the cash register. “Your grand total will be $2.75; would you like me to warm it up for y—”

Then he heard it:  
_Virgil had missed a note._

Roman immediately stopped talking. It was a minor slip-up—Virgil played an F instead of an E—but it that isn’t what startled Roman.

It’s what happened after.

Because when his eyes went to the second floor, he saw that, for the first time,  _Virgil had stopped playing._  

Virgil was staring at his hands that were shakily hovering over the ivory keys, and then Roman caught Virgil staring at the man in front of Roman. When he saw Roman was staring back, his head immediately snapped back to facing the keys,  _but Roman saw the tears._

“I’ll take it as is, actually,” the man said, snapping Roman out of his thoughts. “I like my stuff cold.”

Roman hesitantly nodded, not keeping his eyes off Virgil.

“S-Sure,” he stammered. “$2.75, go ‘round the corner, and…yeah — thank you for  _tuning_  in; goodbye.”

His usual goodbye saying was rushed as Roman immediately turned around and sped past Thomas, who was at the end of the counter, bidding a customer farewell.

When Roman passed by him, throwing his arms up in the air so he could yank his apron off, Thomas quickly grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“Woah, slow down there, Prince Speedo,” Thomas said with a nervous chuckle. “What’s the rush?”

“V-Virgil,” Roman mumbled, and he believed Thomas finally realized that there was no music playing.

It was  _silent_.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” Thomas said, grabbing Roman’s apron out of his hands. “Go and help Virge, quickly. I can take the order”

Roman nodded hastily, dashing past customers who were walking out and rushing up the stairs.

Suddenly, the sound of piano began to fill Roman’s ears once more. He froze.

It was “Mia and Sebastian’s Theme” from  _La La Land_ , but it was quieter; almost  _shaky_ , if Roman were to describe it. He felt as if the world was darkening around him and that’s when he realized it.

_Perhaps Virgil’s world is darkening too._

(Somehow, Roman had a feeling that the darkened world was in the sweet, romantic way Damien Chazelle made it.)

By the time Roman got to the second floor, Virgil was beginning to speed up, his hands racing across the keys.

“Virgil,” Roman tried to say, going towards Virgil as if he was approaching a scared cat. “Virgil, are you alright?”

The last part is more  _urgent_ ; more scared. Virgil ignored him, missing a note on his way down the scale and cursing under his breath. Roman swore he could almost hear Virgil’s heartbeat.

His fingers were pounding on the keys as if he was punching them in, his brow furrowed and his hands shaking erratically. Roman’s eyes widened when he heard Virgil’s breathing.

_Virgil was having a panic attack._

He reached the high-end of the piano, pressing chord after chord on his way back down, before his fingers flew right across the keys. Tears were running down his cheeks, and Roman, horrified, found himself unable to do anything but watch.

A low chord rang in his ears as his hands scattered across the keys, and Virgil was slowly rising before he slammed the last chords, pushing himself away from the piano and standing up. The force of his sudden action pushed the piano bench behind back.

_Silence._

Virgil was staring at the keys of the piano, and Roman saw that the end of Virgil’s fingers were shaking. He was heaving, struggling for breath.

“Virge, Jesus Christ, c’mere,” Roman said quietly, slowly going towards Virgil. He watched as Virgil shakily looked up at him before letting out a loud sob, running into his arms. Roman caught him before he could fall.

“Bathroom?” Roman kept his voice even, but he could feel Virgil’s heartbeat pound through his black hoodie. Virgil nodded frantically, and Roman wrapped one arm around Virgil’s waist and lifted Virgil’s arm around his shoulder, helping him walk across the second floor. He used his free arm to swing the bathroom door open.

When it was just the two of them, Virgil stumbled out of Roman’s grasp and slumped down against the floor. He was hiccupping, holding his knees against his chest and hiding his face. Roman quickly crouched to his level and held Virgil’s hand. Virgil shakily looked up.

“Hey, hey,” Roman murmured, holding Virgil’s hands closer to him. “It’s me, Virge. Roman.”

“R-Ro…R-Roman…” Virgil gasped, shuddering as Roman squeezed his hands. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut, his head falling into his knees once more.

“Virgil, can you look at me?” Roman asked, his voice low. Virgil slowly raised his head, numbly acknowledging Roman’s request. Roman gave him a small smile.

“Good, good,” Roman praised, nodding at him. “Now, we’re just going to take a few deep breaths, okay?”

Virgil was shaking, slowly pulling his hands closer to him and pulling Roman closer to him. He was trying to hold himself together, Roman realized, so Roman moved closer to him to make it easier on him.

“Try to match my breathing, okay, darling?” The seemingly harmless nickname was a bad idea — Virgil whimpered, barely understanding Roman through his ragged breathing. Roman’s eyes widened, and he fought off the  ~~ur~~ g ~~e~~ to to  ~~cu~~ rse under his breath.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said quietly. Virgil said nothing, but his shaking intensified. Roman did his best not to panic alongside him.

 _‘Strong,’_  was the word racing through his mind ~~, ‘if you can’t be brave, what good are you for?’~~.

“Virgil look at me please.” Virgil lifted his head, merely peeking at Roman. “Good, now can you mimic my breathing? In for four…”

Virgil swallowed thickly, slowly taking in a shaky breath.

“That’s good, Virgil!” Roman gently praised. “Now hold for seven, okay?”

Roman watched as Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut, and he held the breath. Roman quickly murmured the numbers before saying, “Now out for eight.”

Virgil breathed out, hiccupping in between. Roman nodded, rubbing his hand with his thumb.

“You are doing so well, Virgil,” Roman said soothingly. Virgil nodded, looking at Roman in the eye. Roman tried his best to remain calm as well.

After going through the breathing exercise a few more times, Roman noticed that Virgil was still shaking. He reached over to brush some hair out of his eyes.

“Can you try and name five things you can see, Virge?” Virgil looked up at him and then around the bathroom.

“A-A si…sink,” Virgil gasped out. A violent chill ran through his body and he shuddered so hard that he sunk into Roman’s arms. Roman cradled him gently.

“You can keep going if you’d like, Virgil,” Roman said, running his fingers softly in Virgil’s hair.

“A…A sink,” Virgil said again, taking a deep breath, “t-the…the paper towels. A-A painting of  _L-Lady…a-and the T-Tr…Tramp_. P-Purple hair. Y-Your c…crown.”

“You are doing so good, Virgil,” Roman said, curling his hair behind his ear. “Four things you can hear?”

“M-My…my breathing. Y-Your voi…voice. The bells d-down…downstairs. My…my heartbeat.”

“Good, good,” Roman murmured. “Three things you can feel?”

“Y-Youuur,”—Roman squeezed his hands when Virgil’s words slurred—“y-your breath. Your…y-your hands. The…t-the floor.”

“Amazing, you’re doing amazing, okay?” Roman gave him a shy smile. “Two things you can smell?”

“Y-Your cologne…” Virgil paused. “I-I…I think I can smell cookies.”

“Got some crumbs on my shirt,” Roman chuckled. “You are doing wonderful,  _mi pequeño rayo._  One thing you can taste?”

“Wha…w-what?”

“Oh, sorry, one thing you can ta—”

“N-No…” Roman looked at him gently. “M-Mi…mi pequeño…um—”

“Mi pequeño rayo,” Roman said again. “ _My little flash of lightning_.”

When Virgil stared at him without saying a word, Roman began to panic.

“ I…I know it’s weird,” he quickly said. “It was sort of instinctive thing — I-I’ve known Spanish all my life, and it sort of just slipped.  It’s just that I…you’re a flash of a strange y-yet beautiful phenomenon, which is what I…I meant if that even makes se—”

Without warning, Virgil lifted his head off Roman’s chest and pulled him into a tight kiss. Roman’s eyes widened, and he could feel Virgil tremble against his lips. His heart began to race as well, but when Virgil cupped his hand against Roman’s cheek, he felt Virgil’s shaking cease. He closed his eyes and brushed his hair back and held Virgil’s cheek.

His eyes shot open when Virgil pulled back, panting for air. His rationality seemed to return when the kiss was over, and he covered his mouth.

“Holy…holy  _crap_ , I am so sorry.” Roman quickly stood up, brushing himself off. Virgil looked up at him shyly. “I…I took complete advantage of you, a-and…and—”

“Your lips.”

Roman watched as Virgil slowly stood up. He helped him up, holding him in his arms.

“P-Pardon?”

“Your…your lips.” Virgil gave Roman a small smile. “I…I didn’t have anything for ‘t-taste’.”

Roman was at a loss for words. Virgil was looking at him and the questions Roman once had disappeared.

“I barely know you, Virgil.” Roman’s heart was pounding. “I…I am truly sorry. I just…I can’t f-force you into anything that could be—”

Virgil held his hand up.

“I’m sorry I…I kissed you.” Virgil rambled once more. “I-It was a reflex—  _not a reflex_ , oh my God, it’s just that I…”

He couldn’t finish. However, to his surprise, Roman began to laugh.

“I…I think I understand.” Roman flashed him a smile. “I want to talk about this later, if that’s okay?”

Virgil nodded wordlessly. Roman sighed, looking at his watch.

“It’s almost 8,” Roman murmured. He extended his hand forward. “I think I heard Thomas left, so do you want me to grab you a drink?”

Virgil flashed him a smile, and took his hand.

It took all of Roman’s willpower not to kiss him right there.

Before they could leave, Roman turned Virgil around gently to face him. Virgil looked at him, confused, before Roman sighed.

“When I said I wanted to talk,” Roman whispered, “I  _really_  want to talk.”

Virgil said nothing when he nodded, sadder than before, but when Roman squeezed his hand, Virgil smiled because no matter what he did, he knew he was safe.

* * *

Logan and Patton finally get to their seats and the first thing Logan did when they sat down is talk.

“Patton, I apologize greatly,” Logan said, as Patton smiled gently, opening his menu. “I did not take into account that there would be traffic, I cannot  _believe_  I did not factor that aspect into my decision-making process; it too approximately ten minutes longer than it should have, and you have been stuck with me for the last twenty minutes  _and we haven’t even eaten yet,_  and—”

“Woah, slow down, Lo!” Patton chuckled, lifting his head up so he could look at Logan who was not blushing, no he wasn’t. “ ‘Stuck with me’? Come on, don’t be silly.”

“I’m not silly,” Logan said, confused, “I’m never silly.”

“I beg to differ, Obi Pun Kenobi,” Patton laughed. Logan rolled his eyes.

“H-Hey,” Patton continued in between giggles, “there’s nothing wrong with being silly! In fact, wal- _let’s_ get more silly!”

Patton went to take out his wallet for the sake of a visual pun, but when he patted down both pockets of his pants, his eyes widened in panic.

“Yes, Patton,” Logan hummed, “your pun  _was_  as horrifically illogical as you think…”

“It’s not that —  _crap_.” Upon hearing the rather rare curse, Logan looked up to see Patton rush out of his seat, patting down all his pockets and flipping his coat over his seat to see if there was anything in his jacket pockets. Logan frowned.

“Are you in need of assistance, Patton”

“N-No,” Patton murmured. “ _Oh, no no no no no…_ ”

“Patton, you are, admittedly, scaring me in the slightest.” Logan’s breath hitched when he saw Patton’s panicked expression.

“I forgot my wallet,” he mumbled, his foot tapping. “Holy heck, I can’t pay for dinner.”

“Um, take a deep breath, Patton.” Logan stood up and gently sat Patton down, grabbing his coat and putting it back behind his chair. “Why would it be of concern to you if you forgot your wallet?”

“Did you not hear me before?” Patton’s laugh was shaky; almost as if he was on the verge of crying. “I can’t pay for dinner. You brought me all this way, and—”

“Patton, that is quite alright.” Logan reached for Patton’s hands over the table  ~~without thinking~~  and squeezed them tightly. “It’s my treat tonight. Think of it as my method of payment in regards to your service.”

“Logan, I can’t—”

“I am your fellow acquaintance. There is no need to panic over a situation easily resolved by my gratitude.” Logan flashed a smile to see if that could help the situation, and to his relief, Patton gave him a small smile.

“I’ll…” Patton looked down at the menu and closed it upon seeing the first page. “I’ll get the miso soup then.”

Logan looked down at his menu, then back up at Patton incredulously.

“Patton, that is a mere appetizer,” he said, pushing his glasses up. “That is not a sufficient dinnertime meal. Recent studies actually show that it is important to eat a dinner larger than your lunch, as the human body needs more en—”

Upon seeing Patton’s oh-so familiar guilty face, Logan sighed, finally understanding.

“Perhaps I did not make it clearer before, I apologize.” Logan smiled sympathetically at Patton. “You are welcome to get whatever you so desire,  _regardless of the price._ ”

Patton said nothing, but hesitantly flipped further into the menu. Logan tapped nervously against the edge of the table — Patton, although he was now looking at regular meals, was still only staring at the price.

“Is it okay if I get a red dragon roll?” Logan frowned upon seeing Patton’s now-indescribable expression.

“Of…of course,” he said. “Patton, why would you feel the need to ask permission?”

Patton’s eyes widened.

“I-I’m really sorry, Heather, it’s just that—”

“ _Heather?_ ” Logan echoed, and Patton abruptly stopped.

_There was his answer._

The air around them seemed to thicken, and Logan felt a weird bubble of emotion stir up inside him. It didn’t feel exactly like pity, but rather  _anger_.

“L-Logan.” Patton said his name as if it was a lifeboat. “Y-Your…your name is  _Logan_ ; shoot, I am such a mess.”

“You are not a mess, you are human.” Logan sighed. “Maybe tonight is not a good night for socializing — perhaps, instead, you should get some rest. I do not mean to hold you here for any amount of time longer than you want to be here.”

“No!” Patton’s voice was panicked,  _scared_. He softly said, “No, I don’t want to miss out on such a lovely night with you because of me  _again_.”

Logan held Patton’s stare and in fear of hurting him, decided to call over a waiter. The waiter walked over to them with a bright smile. Logan reciprocated.

“Hello, I would like to place an order for two red dragon rolls.” Logan handed the waiter both menus as Patton watched wordlessly. He added, “As well as a basket of tempura. Just the tempura would be adeq— wait, Patton, do you want the vegetable tempura? I usually order without it.”

“Whatever you want,” Patton said earnestly, a bit happier, even if Logan knew that  _Patton wasn’t talking to him;_  he was talking to  _her_.

The thought made him  _sick_.

“With the vegetable tempura would be fine,” Logan said, smiling at the waiter. “A bit of an odd request, but if a chef named Tanya is in tonight, do you mind asking her for a milkshake?”

The waiter nodded, leaving at once. Patton watched as the waiter left, and Logan noted that he was bright red.

“Patton?” he asked. “Is there a problem?”

“A-A milkshake?” Patton asked, almost shyly. “Why…?”

“My friend, Tanya, works here,” Logan explained. “Often when I bring Roman here, I get him a milkshake. It is my personal…sign or friendship.”

Patton broke into a wide smile, bringing his hands to his cheeks. “Awww,  _Logan!_ ”

“It’s an odd request at a Japanese restaurant, I understand that,” Logan continued, “but they just come with the most, as Roman would say,  _adorable-est_ coasters…”

“Thank you, Logan.” Patton’s smile brought Logan out of the initial anger and brought him back into  _reality_. “I really do appreciate it.”

“But of course, Patton,” Logan said with a gentle smile, reaching over once more to squeeze Patton’s hand. “You…you sincerely mean a lot to me.”

“You mean a lot to me too!” Patton leaned over the table, his hand in his chin.

 _‘Looks like I finally got him back,’_  Logan thought with a sigh of relief.

“So tell me, Patton,” Logan said, folding his arms neatly on the table, “what is currently taking place in your life?”

Patton’s eyes lit up.

“Well, I  **h** ate to admit it, but I was sort of ly **i** ng when I said the only reason I wanted you to have dinner with me as my ‘paycheck,” Patton chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Lied?” Logan echoed.

“I…I actually have some big news,” Patton said, his excitement growing. Logan couldn’t help but smile, amused.

“Oh?” He tried not to seem coy, but he couldn’t help it. Patton looked away with a teasing glare.

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t wanna know,” he hummed, secretly sneaking glances at Logan. He rolled his eyes, deciding to play along.

“I would be the utmost luckiest man in the world if you disclosed that information to me, Patton,” Logan said in a mock-monotonous tone. “It would be my honour to hear your news.”

“Well, shucks, when you put it like that!” Logan jumped slightly when Patton quickly leaned forward over the table.

“Do you remember that time we went to the grocery market?” Patton began shyly.

~~Logan tried to look as if he didn’t think about that moment every day.~~

“I do,” he said instead.

“Well I told you about the whole ‘I hate change’ sort of thing, right?” Patton continued. “And you told me that I—”

“—cannot base your opinions and beliefs on hypothetical situations,” Logan finished, quoting it perfectly. Upon seeing Patton frown, he quickly said, “My apologies. I…I just—”

“Not an issue!” Patton giggled. “I am just surprised you remembered.”

~~Logan wasn’t blushing, _no he wasn’t._~~

“You told me that I should talk to Heather about where we stood on the issue as, you know, a couple.”

This seemed to spark Logan’s attention.

“Did you now?”

“Yup!” Patton’s laugh was shaky once more. “And…oh my goodness, you’ll think I sound ridiculous—”

“Falsehood,” Logan hummed. Patton went red.

“Well…well I saw some signs.” Logan blinked, confused. “I was talking to her, and I…I sort of think something isn’t  _right_. That something has to… _change_.”

 _‘Oh my God, oh my God, it’s happening.’_  Logan tried to keep a straight face.

This was it.  
This is where it finally changes.

_This is where they get to be happy._

“I see,” Logan said quietly, trying to remain calm and collected. “Patton, I am truly sorry to hear that you and Heather will be going your separate wa—”

“I think I want to marry her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- (writing that scene between logan/patton with the fairy lights was a 10/10 experience. writing the last sentence was not :P)
> 
> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	11. Jasmines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, mentions of abusive relationships, manipulative behaviour, mentions of alcohol/being drunk, mentions of panic attacks (non-descriptive)
> 
> a/n- ooh it is a late chapter, but it is here! i am not the proudest of this one, but it isn’t half as bad as i thought it’d be — somehow, i made it funnier?? idek :’)) buuut it’s here! and i hope you like it, regardless of its little bumps. i don’t know why i struggled so much with this chapter, but i ultimately had an odd amount of fun writing it :P enjoy, folks <3

_“jasmines = i attach myself to you” **  
**_

~*~

_~~when logan was sixteen,  
he stopped growing attached to people;~~ _

~~**because his parents weren’t,  
** ~~ ~~and he was thoroughly convinced that if he did,  
~~ ~~he’d get hurt again too.~~

…

 _‘Abort,_  
Abort,  
Abort,

_Abort—’_

“Logan?” Patton’s voice was merely a whisper in the alarm blaring in Logan’s head. “You…you’ve been awfully quiet for, like, the last minute.”

For the first time,  _Logan didn’t know what to do._

_~~He’s was **wrong**.~~ _

“Is there something wrong?” Patton asked again. This time, Logan cleared his throat to break his silence, shakily adjusting his tie.

“You…” He closed his eyes and flashed his best smile. “Y-You’re getting married!”

It wasn’t a question — Logan was done with  _hope_.   
~~**_He was wrong, he was wrong, he was wrong—_**~~

“Well, I sure hope so!” Patton chuckled. “Are you…surprised?”

“Of course not!” Logan blurted out. Patton looked surprised.

He shakily smoothed out his shirt, his hand brushing against his  _racing heart._ “I am just…confused.”

“Confused?” Patton sounded hurt, and Logan’s eyes widened.

“N-Not in a…a negative way!” Logan insisted, trying not to panic  ~~ ** _(abort, abort, abort!)_**~~. More quietly, he corrects himself; “I am just confused as to why…why you would tell  _me_.”

To his relief, Patton’s smile returned.

“What do you mean?” Patton asked. “Logan, you’re, like, my best-est friend in the world! I was going to keep it a secret, but I just got too excited — and who better to share that excitement with than, as mentioned before,  _best-est friend?!”_

Logan blinked, unsure of what to do with this new information.

“…best-est?” he asked instead. Patton just giggled, as if he found Logan  _funny_.

**_~~information processing,  
information processing,  
information proce—~~_**

The server came around a few seconds later with their meals (and Patton’s milkshake, which only added to the smile on Patton’s face), and Logan watched quietly as Patton ate.

It wasn’t until Patton ate three pieces of sushi that Logan finally spoke up.

“I sincerely am happy for your…engagement.” He felt as if the words were choking him. “If I may ask…what led you to your decision?”

“Well, nothing’s official yet — I might go ring-shopping in a few days,” Patton said, sipping his milkshake. “But I just felt like it was time, ya know? Get out of that box I’ve been living for so long. Take a chance, live a little;  _kumbaya_  and all that stuff!”

“That does not what kumbaya mean—”

“Either way,” Patton cut him off, “I am excited. It’s something… _new_. And it’s with someone I love so much. “I think it’s just right that I give her something new, you know? Before…”

He chuckled, and quieter, said, “Before she finds something new too.”

Logan was at a loss for words. On one hand, Patton sincerely felt happy about his engagement. And rightfully so; Logan assumed that these sort of commitments would lead to a sense of happiness and fulfillment. After all, he was going to be with the love of his life.

On the other hand,  
Patton looked as if he felt  _scared_.

It was silent for a while. Patton took a sip of his milkshake with a small, happy grin; as Logan took slow bites of his meal.

“You know, I meant what I said before,” Patton hummed quietly, and Logan’s head snapped up.

“Before as in…?”

“At the grocery store, I mean.” Patton was red, looking down on the napkin on his legs. “When I said I should’ve met you sooner. I…I meant that.”

“O-Oh?” Logan’s voice was shaky;  _panicked_. “How so?”

“If I met you sooner, I would’ve talked to Heather sooner,” Patton answered. “I would’ve found out that if I wanted this to last, I needed to do  _something_. Your advice…I think it’s what I needed.”

_**~~You were right,  
why can’t you be wrong?~~ ** _

**_~~Abort, abort, abort, abort—~~ _ **

“That’s…” he cleared his throat. “That’s very nice to hear, Patton, thank you.”

“No, thank  _you!_ ” Patton touched Logan’s nose playfully, and Logan wondered if Patton’s finger was the splash of a red-covered paintbrush. “That actually leads me to my next question.”

~~_Logan did not want to do these **stupid**  quizzes anymore._ ~~

“Go ahead,” Logan hummed instead. He took a piece of tempura in between his chopsticks, struggling to pick it up.

“Well,” Patton began slowly, “you are just one of the most important people in my life, Logan.”

“ ‘Important’ is a relative term,” Logan managed to say, still struggling to get the tempura to stay between his chopsticks. “It…it fluctuates depending on perspective. I do not see why you would find me ‘important’.”

“Don’t you even start, Logan,” Patton said. “I don’t know what I’d be without you, you know?”

**_~~Happy.~~ _ **

“R-Right.” Patton ate another piece of sushi.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I sort of have a…job for you.”

“Oh?” The piece of tempura flicked out his chopsticks and he grumbled quietly. Patton nodded eagerly, a smile growing on his face.

“You are the smartest people I know,” Patton said, “and going back to the ‘most important person in my life’ thing, I know there is no one who would be better suited to this than you.”

Logan finally got the tempura to stay still in between his chopsticks with a satisfied smile, bringing it up to his mouth and—

“Would you like to be the official florist for the wedding?”

The tempura fell out his chopsticks. Logan’s mouth was still open.

“I… _p-pardon?_ ”

“The florist!” Patton chirped. “I’m planning on asking Virgil to be my best man, and I think Roman would be a heckin’ great MC — you  _had_  to be in the wedding party somehow, and I know  _zilch_  about flowers! We know who does though…right?”

Logan was speechless.

There was no way in  _hell_  that he could do that, no matter how close of a friend Patton was. Even without his infatuation with him, Logan would be unable to fulfill the task properly.

Because it was  _Patton_ ;  
Oh, loved-everyone-too-much-it-hurt- **him**  Patton.

 _‘It’ll hurt you.’_  His thoughts were racing. ‘ _At the end of all this, **he’ll hurt you.** ’_

Patton was staring at him now, Logan noticed.

 _‘ “I am sorry, Patton, but I would be unable to do so”,’_  he thought.  _‘ “Patton, I would love to, but I am extremely busy.” “You know I love you, Patton, so for those reasons, I will have to say no”.’_

The word “no” was on Logan’s lips.  
A smile was on Patton’s.

Logan took a deep breath.

* * *

“You said  _yes?!_ ” Roman shrieked.

Logan winced, trying to keep his attention on his flower catalogue — it was too early in the morning for this. His pencil was lightly tapping on the edge of the counter.

“What do you suppose I should’ve done?” Logan asked, annoyed. “Say  _no?_ ”

“Um,  _yes?_ ” Roman retorted incredulously. Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up slightly. Roman added, “And if you are going to tap your pencil so loudly, do so in ¾ or something — not 8/8. What kind of songs are in 8/8?”

Logan briefly stopped mid-beat, before continuing in ¾.

“If I said no to Patton, I would lose the trust of a dear friend,” Logan said.

  
“Logan—”

“I am not wrong, am I?” Roman remained quiet. “He would have been crushed. Besides, there is no valid reason that I would refuse the invitation.”

“It’s his wedding,  _Gay-denias_ ,” Roman said, his voice bridging on concern. “I know how you feel about Heather— I know how you feel about  _Patton_.”

“It’s strictly professional. Feelings are not to get in the way of professional affairs,” Logan insisted. “Furthermore… _gay-denias?_ I assume you mean garde—”

“Don’t think I forgot what those meant.” Roman said smugly. Logan rolled his eyes, closing his eyes and trying to calm down. Roman rushed around the counter and as soon as he got there, Logan walked around the counter and grabbing a watering can on the way. Roman threw his hands up in frustration.

“Logan, I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” Roman continued. “I know you’re not the most ‘instinctive’ person in the world, but…but the heart wants what it wants. It’s really risky and it could hurt you  _and_ Patton, you know?”

“No, Roman,” Logan huffed, spinning around to face Roman, “I do  _not_  know. I cannot possibly understand why you think this is a bad idea; Patton is my  _friend_. I am filled with a sense of… emotions with positive connotations. So it’s fine, we’re fine, he’s fine, yada yada yada,  _are we done?_ ”

Logan turned back around and began to water the flowers. Roman sighed.

“Logan, if you are going to do this, you have to be  _civil_ , okay?” Roman asked softly, slowly walking towards to his friend. Logan said nothing, continuing to water the flowers.

“I have no reason to  _not_  be civil,” Logan answered.

“I’m just worried about you, Data,” Roman said honestly. Logan scoffed, and he continued, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Working so close with this wedding and stuff?”

Pause.

“I have to call Patton,” Logan murmured, trying to ignore Roman, “see if he’s done picking Heather’s stuff at the dry cleaners now. Need to ask him about the time for our meeting.”

“Logan, please, just—”

“Look, I am to attend dinner at Patton’s residence tomorrow evening,” Logan gritted out. Roman could tell that Logan’s frustration was peaking. “We will talk about possible flower arrangements, he’ll make a pasta,  _that’s it_. All further affairs will be the same to some degree, so I do not see how this can be of any harm.”

_“It could hurt you.”_

Logan froze in his spot, tilting the can back before all the water could spill onto one of the gardenias. Roman spun Logan around by the shoulders and turned the startled man around to face him. Logan closed his eyes and sighed.

“I do not understand.”

“God, Logan, you are just so  _dense_  sometimes,” Roman mumbled, letting go of Logan  ~~as if he was disgusted by him~~. 

Logan blinked, pushing up his glasses. “I believe that was uncalled for.” 

Roman closed his eyes, walking away from Logan and pacing the length of the shop.

“I am sorry, okay?” Roman snapped. “I just hate how… _oblivious_  you are sometimes.”

“I am unaware if you are trying to help me or not,” Logan grumbled. Roman shook his head.

“Not a bad thing, Specs,” Roman murmured. He went over to the counter and leaned against the edge. “I just…”

He trailed off, unsure of what to say. The shop was filled with an uncomfortable silence.

“Remember how I met you?” he ended up blurting out. Logan frowned, confused, but nodded anyway.

“It was my second year with the shop,” Logan recalled. “There was an intoxicated man who went inside my shop, and you must’ve saw him try to steal something from outside your newly-opened café. You ran across the street, nearly got ran over by two cars, and bursted into my shop, when you hit him with a foam sword until he left. I later found out you were hosting a costume party at your café for its opening night. I refused to go because I did not find those frivolous events enjoyable, and you stayed with me for the remainder of the night.”

“Close,” Roman corrected lightly. “You refused to go because you saw that guy  _drunk_.”

Logan said nothing.

“I stayed with you for the remainder of the night throughout your panic attack,” Roman continued. “After that, I vowed to protect you. Do you know why?”

Silence.

“It’s because you’ve been hurt before without even noticing it,” Roman said quietly. “You had no one to tell you that you’ve been hurt, and I learned that you grew to blame yourself.”

Roman swallowed thickly, trying not to get emotional over the situation at add.

“When I learned what happened…God, Logan, I can never let that happen to you again.” Logan looked up at him shyly. “Not when you’re  _alone_.”

Logan said nothing, but eventually began to water his flowers again. He continued to pour until all the water was out, and when he realized that he just over-watered a plant  _and that plant will probably now die_ , Logan took a deep breath.

“I will be fine, Roman.” He tried not to look at Roman’s hurt expression. “Your sentiment is greatly appreciated. However, I must ask you to leave — it is 8:54 am and I am going to open up soon. I suggest you do the same.”

“Logan…”

“I will be alright,” Logan said, more firmly this time.  _“I always have been.”_

When he had the strength to look at Roman, he immediately regretted it.   
Roman looked  _disappointed_.

“Tomorrow night, right?” Roman asked quietly when the silence became too much, beginning to head towards the door. Logan nodded, swallowing thickly. “I…I’ll pick you up.”

“Roman—”

“Just…” Roman sighed. “Just to make sure.”

Roman was about to walk out of the store when Logan sighed.

“Roman?”

The prince-figure turned around. Logan flashed him a forced bright smile.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For…for everything.”

To his relief, Roman smiled.

“I love you too, nerd,” he said, flipping over Logan’s sign so that it would read “open” from the outside. He winked at Logan before he swiftly exited.

Logan was about to cry—he knew he was going to—but by the time he was done staring at the place where Roman once stood, his first customer walked in.

He sighed — if the universe didn’t want him to take a break, perhaps it would screw him over less if he just listened.

* * *

That evening, Patton whistled under his breath as he threw his keys onto a small plate near the entrance. He swiftly closed the door behind him, locking it without the chain so Heather could unlock it with ease.

Patton hung his jacket on a wire hanger and pushed it deeper in the closet, leaving one side completely empty for Heather. He stopped by Heather’s room and neatly folded her laundry on the bed from the dry cleaners, before continuing to walk into the kitchen. He took a brief look at the time.

 _‘9 pm,’_  he thought as he opened some cupboards and began to pull out plates.  _‘Heather comes home in fifteen minutes. Maybe I can cook some pasta…”_

After setting the table, he pulled out a box of pasta from the shelf and quickly began to boil water. He pulled out his phone and decided to put on some soft music.

“Seventeen” from  _Heathers_  began to play, and Patton smiled, beginning to hum quietly to the music. He poured some pasta into the pan.

 _“Can’t we be seventeen,”_  he sang quietly, twirling across the kitchen floor to grab a plate off the table.  _“That’s all I want to do…”_

He continued to cook, singing quietly under his breath.

 _“If you could let me in,”_ he continued,  _“I could be good_ for _you…”_

He paused;  
the song said  _“with.”_

Patton heard the sound of a door opening and he immediately grabbed his phone and muted the music. He stuffed the phone in his pocket and resumed cooking, a bit straighter this time.

Heather walked into the kitchen, slowly slipping out of her pale pink leather jacket to reveal a black skull crop top. Patton flashed her a smile, leaving the stove to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Hey, honey,” he said, his lips brushing her rosy cheeks.

“Pat,” she hummed, getting her hair out of a ponytail as she kissed his cheek. She smelled the air and smiled. “Do I smell pasta?”

“Yeah, I just started a few minutes ago!” Patton said, eagerly guiding her to the kitchen. “I would’ve had it done earlier, but I just got home not too long ago myself — work was  _crazy_  today.

“Eh, good enough,” Heather said, tapping Patton’s nose. He giggled, feeling butterflies in his stomach. She went to the kitchen and looked at the table, straightening a few placemats.

“How was work?” he asked, quickly getting back to his cooking.

“Ugh, it was horrible,” Heather groaned, smoothing out her leather skirt. “Fucking David screamed at me pretty much all day.”

“Aw, I am so sorry to hear, hun!” Patton said, looking at her sadly.

“S’fine,” she hummed, sitting down. “It was probably because I didn’t wear my blue checkered scarf. Dude turns into a big baby-lady when I wear that thing. Butters him up.”

She began to coyly twirl her fork. “Oh well. Couldn’t find it this morning anyway. Guess it’s not my fault.”

A pang of guilt shot through Patton.

“Um, so are you in the mood for citrus-y or spicyyy,” Patton said, stretching the word with a small smile. As the pasta was cooking, he quickly grabbed two glasses of water. “Or if you’re feelin’ really spontaneous, we can do  _both!”_

Heather shrugged.

“Spicy’s fine,” she said softly. Patton took the pan over the sink and poured the pasta into a bowl. A bit of the oil got on his hand and he hissed at the sudden hot pain.

“You alright?” Heather asked idily. Patton chuckled, managing to grab the bowl and set it on the middle of the table. He smiled weakly.

“Just a bit of oil,” he said sheepishly. “Got on my hand — no big deal.”

“My lil’ clumsy bean,” Heather teased, squeezing Patton’s cheeks from her seat on the table. Patton leaned forward, following her touch seamlessly, and blushed. “Can’t take the heat, can you?”

Patton grinned, going over to the opposite side of the table and took his seat. He pushed the bowl of pasta towards Heather, who smiled, taking a few spoonfuls onto her plate.

“Finished?” Patton asked. Heather nodded, and he gratefully took the bowl and grabbed some for himself.

“Hungry?” Heather said with a smug smile. Patton paused, mid-way into putting another spoonful of pasta onto his plate. He smiled, embarrassed.

“Long day,” he answered with a small smile, “need my energy, I guess!”

“Valid,” Heather giggled. Patton left the spoonful of pasta in the bowl and watched as Heather took a bite. Upon seeing her smile, he sighed in relief and took a bite himself.

“You know, I am real sorry to hear about David.” Heather frowned slightly, not making an eye contact as she took another bite of the pasta. Patton gulped, quickly adding, “He shouldn’t have screamed at you. It…it was a real dick move.”

Heather scoffed with a smug smile.

“Heh, it really was,” Heather hummed.

“You can quit, you know?” Patton said shyly.

“Quit,” Heather scoffed. “Yeah, sure. It’s a crap job, but money comes out of crap jobs. And money is sort of what we need. It’s better than  _no_  jobs, am I right?”

“You can work with me, if you’d like!” Patton suggested.

“More like ‘for’,” Heather retorted, rolling her eyes. “Don’t know if ‘business partners’ screams ‘ultimate romance’.”

“Oh,” Patton said, his smile briefly following. He added, “I don’t see why you can’t just work for your dad. I know he can be really off-putting sometimes, but—”

“God, Pat, you don’t think I thought of that?” Heather cut him off, almost exasperated. “Where do you think I am going tomorrow?”

Patton immediately shrunk down in his chair, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry, hun,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Heather waved her hand dismissively.

“S’all good,” Heather hummed. She took another bite of the pasta. “I am going up to Baskerville to see dear ol’ pops. I’m leaving, like, really early tomorrow morning. I think he wanted to discuss ‘business stuff’.”

“Maybe he’s going to let you run the company!” Patton exclaimed with a bright smile. Heather rolled her eyes.

“Not how it works, Pat.”

Patton crossed his arms and teased, “You’re starting to sound like Logan.”  

A beat of silence.

“Logan, eh?” She took a sip of water. “Is that the flower-dictionary?”

“Yup!” Patton said cheerily. “Helped him out yesterday at the shop. He said that Thursdays were ‘relatively slow’ or something.”

“Oi, sounds like everyday,” she commented smugly, “huh, Pat?”

“I mean, I guess!” he chirped. “Either way, we spent some time together — that guy is just something else.”

“He really is,” Heather said, almost flatly. “You’re spending an awful lot of time together, are you?”

“Awful?” he echoed, suddenly worried.

“Don’t take words so literally, Pat,” Heather chuckled. She twirled a piece of pasta between her fork. “He seems nice though, I guess.”

“He really is!” Patton said cheerily. “Did you know he has a greenhouse not too far away from here? He invited m—  _us_  over! We should totally go sometime.”

“We’ll see,” Heather said with a brief smile. She looked down at the pasta and sighed, pushing it back. Patton’s smile fell.

“Something wrong, dear?” he asked nervously.

“Too spicy,” she noted. She took a long sip of water as Patton’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” He quickly stood up as she went up as well. “I can cook something else, if you like? I think we have some spare chicken str—”

“It’s all good,” Heather said. She looked at Patton with a suggestive smile. “You know…I am hungry for something a bit different.”

She trailed her finger up Patton’s chest, and Patton immediately blushed.

“Um,” he squeaked, “ _now?_ ”

“Is there something so wrong with now?” Heather said, narrowing her eyes. Patton shook his head.

“O-Of course not!” He quickly added, “I just thought you were, um…tired. Or something.”

“Maybe if you do it right, I will be,” Heather said with a wink. Patton looked at his plate of pasta that he barely ate. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Heather closed it with her own mouth. She pressed her lips against his, catching him off guard. Eventually, he moved into the kiss and placed his hand behind her head. She pulled back a bit and smiled.

“It’ll be a nice ‘going-away’ sort of present, you know?” she insisted. “I know you want to do it too — it’ll be  _fun_.”

Patton looked at Heather’s half-eaten pasta on her plate. He sighed, facing Heather with a small smile.

Heather seemed to know what that meant. Before Patton could say anything, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed her once more. After pulling back, Patton swept Heather off her feet, bridal style. She yelped, laughing as she began to mark what was  _hers_  on his neck. Patton smiled, bringing her into his room.

He closed the door with his foot with a smile.

* * *

Meanwhile, Roman was cleaning some tables at Tea and Tunes, humming a quiet tune under his breath. Virgil walked down the stairs, carrying sheet music in his hands, along with a solid black coffee cup.

“Hey, Ro,” Virgil said quietly. Roman looked up and beamed at him.

“Hola,  _Wicked Witch of the Best_ ,” Roman replied. Virgil smirked.

“Too long,” he said. Roman rolled his eyes.

“Yeaaah, I know,” he pouted, “I’m just really tired today, okay?”

“It was almost like it was a compliment,” Virgil teased, going around the counter to put some cups back in the dishwasher.

“Shut up!” Roman retorted, and Virgil just laughed.

The café was silent for a while, before Virgil blurted out, “Do you know Spanish?”

Roman stopped, straightening up to look at Virgil.

“I-It’s…it’s just that you say it a lot,” Virgil said anxiously. “Y-You seem…fluent. Or something.

“I spent a semester in Mexico,” he replied. “I learned to adapt pretty quickly.”

“Right.” Virgil looked down, trying to fight off a blush. Roman smiled smugly.

“The ladies  _loved_  it,” he said boastfully, and Virgil snorted. Offended, Roman added, “ _What?_  It’s true! They were all over my feet.”

“Ladies, huh?” Virgil asked, trying not to sound as obvious.

“A few guys too.” Roman whipped his head to the side dramatically, allowing some hair to sweep over his face. “What can I say, I  _am_  quite the charmer.”

“You’re mixing up present tense and past tense again,” Virgil retorted. Roman stuck out his tongue.

“Am not!”

“Am… _too!_ ”

“Am not!”

“Am— oh, forget it.” Virgil turned around to face the cabinets, placing some dry cups back on the shelves. When he turned around, Roman was somehow standing there, a dazzling smile flashing at him. Virgil jumped, his hand flying to his heart. Upon seeing Virgil startled, Roman began to laugh.

Virgil grumbled, digging his hands in his sweater pockets, “You’re a dork.”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is  _dazzling_ ,” Roman said with a wink. Virgil’s breath hitched as Roman leaned forward, whispering, “ _Mi pequeño rayo.”_

Virgil immediately reeled back, throwing his hands up. He leaned back against the counter behind him, and Roman straightened up.

“Is…something wrong?” Virgil shook his head frantically.

“N-No, of course not!” he exclaimed. “I…I just think we should talk.”

“Ugh, nothing good ever comes out ‘I think we should talk’,” Roman huffed as Virgil went to the couch at the corner of the store. Roman pulled out two cups from the cupboard and began to make some tea.

“It’s just that…yesterday,” Virgil began. He paused, not too sure how to continue. Roman smiled smugly as he began boiling water.

“Yes,  _Peter Pan-ic,_ ” Roman said sarcastically, “there  _was_  a yesterday. I think there’s been a few of those recently.”

“Fuck off,” Virgil mumbled. Roman giggled, pouring the boiling water evenly into the two mugs. He pulled out two bags of  _Enchanted Rose Tea_  and plopped them in the cups. He carried the mugs over to Virgil, handing him one. Virgil nodded thankfully, taking a sip.

Roman sat cross-legged on the couch across from Virgil, sipping his tea as well.

“What about yesterday though, Virgil?” Roman asked, his voice suddenly dropping to a quieter, more serious tone. Virgil shrugged, and Roman, more nervously, asked, “Did you not…like it?”

“Of course I did!” Virgil exclaimed. “The kiss, I mean. I liked the kiss. I liked that…a lot.”

Roman smiled, a bit more relieved. As Virgil continued to sip his tea, a brewing question stirred in Roman’s mind. He bit his lip tentatively.

“Virgil?” he asked hesitantly. “Who…who was that man yesterday? The one that came in before closing time, I mean. You seemed like…you  _knew_  him.”

Virgil looked down and quietly tapped the edge of his mug.

“Ex-boyfriend,” he answered softly. “We broke up in December. It…it was  _bad_.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil sighed. Roman’s eyes widened, and he added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, of course.”

“No, I probably should,” Virgil said. “You deserve an answer.”

~~Roman didn’t want to say that bad things came after “you deserve an answer” too.~~

“There isn’t much to it, now that I really think of it,” Virgil said. “It was your typical bad relationship. We dated for a while before things got…bad. I barely went outside for about two months because I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him. He broke my phone; I didn’t speak to anyone for so long. We fought almost everyday, and it either ended in sex or a blow to the face.”

Silence.

“V-Virgil,” Roman stammered, shocked.

“It’s fine now,” Virgil said, looking down. “It stopped when he…he made Patton cry. I knew it had to be the end, but…”

Virgil trailed off, not knowing what to say. Roman, on the other hand, was speechless.

The man looked like bad news because he looked like he could hurt Virgil;  
or, judging by Virgil’s look of fear,  
_Roman must’ve been afraid that he already did._

“Virgil, I am…so sorry,” he whispered. Virgil felt himself squeeze the edge of the mug’s handle.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said quietly. “It’s…it’s over now. I  _know_  that it’s over, but…just seeing him brought back everything. It’s… _ugh_ , this shouldn’t affect me anymore.”

“Hey, hey,” Roman whispered reassuringly, “it’s  _fine_. These kind of storms don’t just disappear. But they  _pass_. Granted, it may take a long time, but they always pass.  _Always_.”  
  
He took Virgil’s shaking hand that was resting on his lap and rubbed it with his thumb softly. Virgil sighed.

“I h-hate how he has that kind of influence on me,” Virgil managed to say.

“The worst people do,” Roman said quietly, low enough that Virgil could barely make out what he was saying.

“T-This is what you’ll have to deal with, you know?” Virgil whispered shakily. Roman looked up at him with wide eyes. “You’ll…y-you’ll have to spend nights doing…this.”

“This being…?  
  
“Trying to calm me down,” Virgil answered. “All I am going to do is make you  _snap_. You’ll hate me as much as he did that at the end of this.”

“Virgil—”

“As much as I would love to have someone like you in my life,” Virgil continued,  _“you’re just too good for me.”_

“Virgil, I—”

“It’s just a matter of what you want,” Virgil kept going, “and trust me when I say  _you don’t want me.”_

“Virgil.” Roman’s firm voice cut him off. He brushed his hand against Virgil’s cheek softly in attempts of calming him down.

“Do you know what I feel whenever you even send me a simple text?” Roman asked softly. “Do you know how I feel whenever you press a single  _key_ …Virgil, you just strike me with such an indescribable feeling.”

“Roman…”

“It’s true!” Roman set his mug down on the coffee table, pulling Virgil up to his feet as well. He led Virgil across the café by the hand, smiling as he twirled Virgil around a bit. Virgil giggled.

“You give me some kind of electricity,” Roman said, spinning Virgil around and holding him close, pressing his chest against his.  “A buzz of energy that…no one has ever made me feel before. Because no one has made me feel more special than you.”

Virgil said nothing,  
but he moved  _closer_.

“There is never going to be a day where I don’t let your voice be heard,” Roman said, his arms securely wrapped around Virgil’s waist. “There is never going to be a day where I make you feel useless. Do you know why?”

Virgil broke into a small smile. “Why?”

“Because I’d make you feel like the prince you are,” Roman whispered, his nose barely grazing Virgil’s. He smiled, and Virgil flashed him a shaky smile back.

“Do you think this is too fast?” Virgil asked. “I mean, we haven’t known each other for  _that_  long…”

“Then I guess we should get going on that sort of stuff, huh?” Roman answered smoothly. Virgil grinned, hanging his arms loosely around Roman’s neck, resting them in the crooks of his shoulder.

“With you, mi amor, I feel like I’m surrounded by a beautiful storm,” Roman purred. “And Virgil, that…well, that  _excites_  me.”

“Me too,” Virgil murmured. “It’s just that I…I don’t want to hurt you somehow.”

“Please,” Roman teased, “you can barely throw a coffee cup into the bin, let alone throw a punch.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but smirked anyway. Roman took Virgil’s hands off him and held them in front of him.

“I sincerely want to try,  _mi pequeño rayo_ ,” Roman said quietly. “Do you?”

Virgil answered him by pressing his lips against Roman’s. Surprised at first, Roman eventually cupped his cheek, bringing one hand to hold the back of Virgil’s head.

 _‘So this is love,’_  he thought, engulfed by  _warmth_.

When he pulled back, all he could see was Roman’s eyes. He smiled.

 _‘Sunny skies.’_  Roman smiled back at him.  _‘Sunny, sunny skies.’_

* * *

When Heather woke up, it was 4 am.

She was alone in the bed when she got up— _cold_ , she’ll tell him,  _you left me alone in the cold?_ —and she bitterly fixed the bed, even if that wasn’t her job.

Afterwards, Heather slipped on a professional looking outfit; ditching the leather jackets and skirts for blazers, blouses, and pencil skirts. She looked in the mirror and slipped on some fake, brown-framed glasses, and smiled.

 _‘Good enough,’_  she thought.

She fixed her hair into a tight bun and walked out of her room with her suitcase.

As Heather made her way to the kitchen, she heard the distinct sound of humming.  

Because when  _Patton_  woke up,  
_it was 2:48 am._

He was cooking breakfast for her, Heather knew that. From where she was at the entrance of their apartment, she could see Patton humming to himself as he flipped what seemed like a heart-shaped pancake.

She smiled to herself;  
_how cute._

…

“Hey, sweetie!” Patton said, going towards his room where Heather with a smile, slowly creaking the door open. “I got you your breakfast! Good morning—”

When he looked inside the room,  
_Heather wasn’t there._

Frowning, Patton walked to the entrance and saw that the door was unlocked.

He sighed.

“…sweetheart,” he murmured, the plate of pancakes still in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- is this crap? i dunno if this is crap. i hope it isn’t. heh. 
> 
> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	12. Anemones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Again, there are a multitude of reasons why I am fond of stargazer lilies. They represent prosperity; they were made to overcome the downward, wilted look of their predecessor commercial lily, Rubrams; et cetera. However, I quite like the simplistic reasoning behind my choice. Some things are just…beautiful; even if you do not completely understand why.”
> 
> Or the one where Patton (probably) drinks/thinks too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: abuse undertones (mostly emotional abusive/manipulative behaviour, not leaning too heavily towards physically abusive), minor swearing, mentions of alcohol (nothing too drastic), mentions of insecurity about self-image/weight, mentions of blood/self-injury (accidental). 
> 
> a/n- this is literally the most confident i have ever been in releasing a chapter, and a big part of that is because my dearest friend @infinitesimalsolemnvow (tumblr) / SolemnVow (ao3) helped me write this — she is responsible for most of the angst-y lines in this chapter and in many chapters to come. she is a god-send who also writes really good fics/headcanons, so i would recommend checking her out as well ^-^
> 
> anyway, without further ado, i present to you chapter 12; alternatively titled: the calm before the storm.

_“anemones = forsaken, undying love.”_

_~*~_

Patton’s eyes shot open.

As he adjusted his lopsided glasses and sat up, he realized that the curtains were all shut. He quickly sat up, looking around the empty apartment. The events of earlier in the morning flooded back, and he felt himself sag a little.  

_‘No bother!’_  he thought, forcing a smile as he stood up.  _‘She said she was busy. Heather is a busy girl, and you should be busy too — you do, after all, have some great things planned!’_

Patton’s smile relaxed as soon as the thought came; he  _did_  have something great in store. He knew it would rekindle any flame he felt burnt out, and—

_‘Burnt out?’_

He abruptly froze in his seat for a brief second, before shaking  _that_  thought out of his head. He decided to instead think about the pancakes that must’ve been cold by now.

After opening the curtains in the lounge, Patton walked to the kitchen, a slight spring in his step. He whistled a happy tune as he took the cold plate of heart-shaped pancakes and opened the fridge to reach for the maple syrup that was stored all the way in the back of the fridge. He peeked over the fridge door to check the time.

_12:19 pm_ : he must’ve fell asleep after realizing Heather left. Now that he thought of it, he didn’t even remember moving to the couch.

After pouring some maple syrup onto his pancake, he quickly put it back exactly where it came from—what was it that she said a few nights back?  _“Watch your waistline?”_ —and carried his plate to the table after slipping a placemat underneath it. As he grabbed himself a cup of water from the sink, he decided to go back to the living room to grab his phone.

He knew he was a bit late, but he figured that Heather would appreciate the greeting. Patton quickly rehearsed what he was going to say as the long buzz of the phone line rang in his ears, and on the third ring, Heather finally picked up.

_“Pat.”_  He grinned upon hearing her voice.

“Heather!” he exclaimed, immediately sitting back down on the couch. His shoulders rose as high as his grin. “Oh, how lovely it is to hear your voice!”

A pause.

_“You’re late,”_  she said gruffly, and Patton could hear the faint noise of something rustling— _someone grunting?_ —behind her.  _“You do know that, right?”_

Patton’s smile didn’t fade. “Heh, my bad! Though, if you think about it, we sorta balance each other out! I was late, and you were early!”

He didn’t mean for it to slip, but he knew it was a bad idea when she heard her scoff.

_“Early?”_  she echoed. The tone of her voice finally wiped the grin off his face.

“I-I mean,” Patton stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, “not l-like it’s a bad thing! My thing was worse — I mean, I’ve been calling you at 10 AM everyday since…since forever.”

_“I was going to say.”_  Patton imagined that if she were here,  ~~her hands would be on his wrist, and his back would be on the wall;  heat, **heated** ,  _ **fire**_.~~  she would be wearing that smug smile Patton fell in love with. He smiled sheepishly.

“My bad,” he said, quieter this time.

_“What were you referring to anyway?”_  More rustling.  _“I…I am interested in knowing.”_

_‘This is why you stay to the script you just made in your head, dummy.’_  Patton’s thoughts sounded like they were teasing him. Playfully, he was sure.

“O-Oh.” He cleared his throat. “It was…nothing, really. Just prepared some breakfast for you and stuff — I was going to surprise you, but you ended up leaving early, so…”

_‘So what?’_  He trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

_“Ah, is that what that noise was this morning?”_ she asked. Patton gulped, standing up and deciding to head to the kitchen. He felt as if she was trailing behind him.

“Er, probably.” He laughed nervously. “I am sort of a loud cook.”

_“Clearly.”_ Her voice went icy.

She was joking.  
Of course.

_“Anyway, it was still super sweet of you to try!”_  A pang of disappointment shot through Patton.  _“You don’t have to next time though. Would probably be better off, you know?”_

“R-Right.”

_“Right I am; you don’t have to be so shy about it.”_  Patton was almost relieved at how smug she sounded — it was an improvement from the coldness of her voice earlier.

“O-Of course!” Patton let out a laugh that didn’t sound like his own.

_“For future reference, it should have been done when I first woke up,”_  Heather hummed. He heard more movement in the background—a snort, maybe? More like a scoff—but when he heard footsteps, the sound became quieter.  ~~Was it always this hot?  His hand was shaking; what did he do wrong?~~

“Good call,” Patton said, picking up his glass to drink some water. “W-Well, I am sure I’ll be better next time, darling—”

_“I know you will,”_  Heather said, and Patton knew that if she was here, she would be tapping his cheek affectionately.  _“While I would love to chat for longer, I am sort of tied up right now.”_

~~_When he eventually looks back at this moment,_ ~~  
~~_with a bottle of beer in his hand_ ~~  
~~_and tears on his face;_ ~~

~~_he’ll realize how easy it was for her to say things like that,_ _  
**and how dumb he was for believing it.**_ ~~

_“I mean,”_  she continued,  _“I’d say sorry, but this wouldn’t have been a problem if you called on time.”_

She laughed because it was funny. And it was Patton knew that.

He paused.

~~Her laugh makes him smile, after all;  
_and she loves him when he smiles._~~

“I won’t take up that much of your time then!” Patton finally said, taking a swig of water. He let out a small intake of air, before reciting his usual closing statement:

“I think you are the greatest,” he said with a smile.

“I hope you’re doing well.” He could hear Heather smile.

“I hope I made you happy!”  ~~Satisfied.~~

“And I love yo—”

The cup that was supposed to go on the edge of the table,  
_shattered on the ground instead._

Patton’s eyes widened and he stared at the glass on the ground ~~; that _bitch_~~.

A beat of silence.

_“Patton?”_  The initial ice now felt like  _fire_.

His eyes didn’t leave the shattered glass. His heart began to race.

“H-Heather—”

_~~the night of broken glass:  
in which he made the  **first mistake.**~~ _

_~~on his knees, had to beg for it;  
**“then give me a reason to forgive you”**~~ _

_“What was that?”_

“N-Nothing!” Patton coughed, swallowing thickly. “I-I…I—”

_“Don’t lie to me,”_  Heather said on the other line, her voice gruff.

Silence.

_‘One glass would be missing.’_  His mind was racing.  _‘Not enough time to buy a complete set. Can’t go out, can’t let her see it, **she’ll leave** , she—’_

“I-It was an accident, Heather,” he stammered, kneeling down to clean up the glass, “I just made a small mistake, and I think a glass just broke; but I’ll clean it up, I swear, it’ll be fine when you get bac—”

He was met with a dial tone.

* * *

Later that night, Logan found himself standing in the entrance of Patton’s apartment building, holding a plastic bag in one hand and held a few binders in the other, pressing them closer to his chest. Looking through the window, he saw that the front lobby was grey, almost  _lifeless_ ; monochrome with a splash of blue felt on the seats near a row of mailboxes.

Logan tapped his foot as he listened to the sound of the apartment buzzer drone on. Adjusting his tie subconsciously, he continued to idly look around before a voice replaced the dull buzz he was listening to.

_“Hiya!”_  Patton’s voice chirped, his voice compressed by static. It sounded a bit frantic, but Logan paid no attention to it.

“Salutations,” Logan replied. More tentatively, he added, “It’s, erm, me. Logan.”

_“Ahh, yes!”_  Logan smiled, almost relieved.  _“Logan! God, time flies — it’s already 7 and I still need to make some stir fry! Not to mention that my place is just a complete mess…”_

“Um, that will not be an issue, Patton,” Logan said. “I am, after all, quite used to witnessing the  _horror_ that is Roman’s apartment. I somehow doubt that your situation comes anywhere close.”

Logan suddenly became aware that above the buzzer was a camera, and he realized that maybe Patton could see him.

Cautiously, he lifted the plastic bag he was carrying to the camera.

“Roman was gracious enough to provide us with plenty of food,” Logan said, flashing a small smile just in case. “Granted, most of the items are not sufficient for a complete dinner. I should correct myself, really; Roman provided plenty of  _desserts_. Insisted that we be spoiled.”

Patton’s laugh still sounded perfect underneath layers of static.

_“S’all good, Lo! Skipping to dessert is my favourite part about any kind of dinner — I’m on the fifth floor, number 120!”_

_Click!_  Logan watched as the door opened in front of him. He tightened his grasp on the plastic bag and walked in, going to the elevator.

When the elevator eventually opened, Logan found himself alone, watching as the numbers on the top of the doors flickered ever-so slightly.

Logan quickly found himself re-evaluating why he was here. He knew that he was here for business purposes only, but…

_‘No,’_  he thought firmly.  _‘There is no other counter-argument to any of this.’_

Logan straightened up as the elevator doors opened. He walked out and through a narrow hallway, noticing the faded green on the floral wallpaper.

When he turned a corner, a dark-green door stood before him, the number “120” in scratched-up gold. He knocked on the door, taking a steadying breath.

In a mere second, the door swung open. When Logan looked at Patton, his eyes widened.

Logan noticed that Patton’s glasses were lopsided, and the eyes behind the lenses were slightly pink; his hair was, to say the least, a mess; but more importantly,  _his hands were covered in blood._

Small scratches, Logan noted—they are similar in length to, say, the width of a dime—but they were  _there_ , and they were  _fresh_.

“Hey, Lo!” Patton said with a bright smile. “Welcome to my humble abode!”

_“Hands,”_  Logan blurted out, suddenly concerned.

Patton blinked, confused. “Um, yeah! I can give you a helping hand with all of that stuff, if that’s what you mea—”

“N-No.” Logan pointed to Patton’s hand, that was still resting on the door handle.

“Oh, that?” Patton laughed, jokingly adding, “Ah, ‘tis but a flesh wound!”

Logan frowned. “That’s nothing to laugh at Patton. It’s serious — what on Earth were you doing that caused all of these cuts?”

Silence. Patton stuffed his hands in his pockets, almost guiltily

“I, um, spilled some glass this morning,” Patton said, smiling meekly. Logan immediately went to hold Patton’s hands to assess the damage, but Patton pulled away immediately, instead rubbing the back of his neck.

“I meant to clean it up earlier, but I sorta fell asleep until you buzzed in. Hence why I was late to answering the door. I am sorry for that by the way. I totally meant to answer sooner; you must’ve been waiting out here for so lon—”

“I have been standing out here for a mere second,” Logan said, pushing his glasses up. He stared at the frazzled Patton, worried. “But that doesn’t matter — you’re still bleeding a little, and I am sure that blood would not give the Thai sauce an extra…kick.”

“But—”

“I’m bandaging them,” Logan said firmly. He let himself in and, to Patton’s surprise, grabbed Patton’s hand, leading him inside. He kicked the door shut behind him.

“Please direct me towards your first-aid kit.” Logan sat Patton on the couch. Patton avoided eye contact.

“Under my bed,” he murmured, “my room.”

A beat of silence passed and Logan inwardly sighed.  Patton pointed towards that general direction, and Logan went into Patton’s room without protest, taking note of the blankets hanging over the bed.

Logan grabbed the first-aid kit from under the bed and walked back to the living room. Patton’s hands were under his legs, and Logan crossed his arms.

“Hands out,” he instructed. Patton hesitantly laid them on his legs, and Logan examined them closely.

“My God, Patton…” he murmured, opening the case. Patton immediately reeled back.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammered, “it was j-just one mistake, and I promise it won’t happen again—”

“There is no need to apologize, Patton,” Logan said, trying to avoid Patton’s stare. He knelt near Patton’s legs and took his hand gently. “As you just mentioned, it was a single mistake. It could have happened to anyone.”

Patton quietly watched as Logan bandaged a bigger cut near the bottom of his palm. When Logan finished, both of them stood up. Patton looked at the bandage, almost guiltily.

“You really didn’t have to.” Patton paused, and added under his breath, “Heather is going to freak out.”

“Freak out?” Logan echoed. “Are…are you implying that she would get angry at you?”

Patton’s eyes widened. “O-Of course not! She…she would just get worried, that’s all. With the whole bandage thing — it makes it look like it’s much worse than it actually is.”

“You were bleeding, Patton.” Logan frowned. “Had I not noticed, you could have been cooking with open wounds. Minor wounds, sure, but wounds nonetheless.”

“Really, Logan, it’s oka—”

“It’s not the end of the world, Patton.” Logan flashed a small smile at Patton. “It is of no use for us to continue this conversation. As long as you are okay, we can continue to proceed with tonight’s schedule.”

He paused, and quietly added, “Are you okay to do so?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Patton smiled, and to Logan, it seemed genuine enough.

Logan was about to make his way to the kitchen before Patton grabbed his wrist. He turned around slowly, and to his surprise, was enveloped in a warm hug.

“Thank you, Lo,” Patton murmured in his shoulder. Logan, still startled, slowly wrapped his arms around Patton.

“Of course, Patton.” He hesitantly rubbed circles on Patton’s back, hoping to seem more reassuring. “Your wellbeing is more important than some broken glass, or however long it takes you to answer a door.”

Patton drew back and gave Logan a shy smile. Logan nodded, not knowing what else to do, and before he could get carried away, went to the kitchen to unload the tupperware Roman filled with countless desserts. Patton trailed not too far behind him, his eyes lighting up.

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed. “Roman went all out, didn’t he?”

“I suppose,” Logan hummed. He chuckled quietly, adding, “He always joked about how I work best with a full stomach — I cannot stop him from trying to fatten me up.”

Patton frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. When Logan turned to face him, he noticed Patton’s uncomfortable expression. Upon seeing his concerned face, Patton forced a laugh.

It sounded nervous, Logan noticed; or, possibly,  _guilty_. He cleared his throat.

“Um, is everything alright, Patton?” Logan asked hesitantly. Patton blinked, clearing his throat.

“Of course!” he chirped, clapping his hands. For a split second, Logan wondered if he did something wrong. “Anyway, I can still cook some Thai if you’d like — I am not en- _thai_ -rly sure that I have all of the vegetables needed, but I probably have enough!”

“Anything would suffice,” Logan reassured with a warm smile upon hearing the pun as well.

Patton smiled back,  
but after seeing it so many times,  
Logan wasn’t sure if Patton ever really  _smiled_.

* * *

“…Ultimately, there are a multitude of choices of flowers to choose from for centre-table bouquets. Personally, I believe the happiness represented in peonies would be of adequate fit for the pastel theme you are leaning towards. They are soft, a bit fluffy — gives a very dreamy kind of atmosphere. Not to mention the various different shades you can choose from…”

Logan had been going on for quite some time now, Patton noticed. They were still sat at the kitchen table, finishing up the Thai food, a bit of Roman’s desserts, and a bottle of red wine. He watched as Logan flipped through his binders, all open and scattered across the table, cross-referencing sections by the second.

Patton, if he could interrupt Logan’s rant for a second, would tell him just how  _fascinating_  it was to listen to him talk about something he was so passionate about. It seemed as if just talking about flowers made Logan so happy — he couldn’t help but feel happy too.

“I apologize.” Patton was brought back to reality when Logan cleared his throat. “I have been going on about the subject matter for far too long. We can talk about something a bit more suited to your tastes if you wish, Patton.”

“No, it’s all good!” Patton replied, an easy smile gracing his lips. “I mean, I asked you to be my florist, so you can talk about flowers all night if you want to!”

“I was not aware that I would be staying all night.”

“I— ah, just forget it.” Logan nodded, going back to his food. Patton took a small sip of wine and leaned over the table.

“Do you have a favourite flower, Logan?”

“Pardon?”

“Favourite flower,” Patton said again. “I was, um, just curious and stuff. You know so much about them after all; I figured you would have a favourite.”

Logan paused.

“While it is a difficult decision—one I have never put that much thought into—I would have to say I favour the  _lilium orientali_ s; or,  _the stargazer lily._ ”

“They have those?” Patton asked excitedly. Logan nodded.

“Indeed they do. It is a hybrid lily of the ‘Oriental group;’ which consists of flowers known for their easily-identical fragrance, and their tendency to bloom from mid-to-late summer. They do best in full sunlight; they have a fast growth rate; and, when mature, they can grow to a height of 36 inches, with a spread of 10 to 14 inches.”

“Sounds cool!” Patton chirped.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he said nonchalantly. “I would presume I have grown a liking to them because they were of preference to Mrs. Aster, my violin teacher.”

Patton giggled. Logan frowned, confused.

“What?” he asked cluelessly.

“It’s just that,”—Patton laughed again—“I sort of assumed that Mrs. Aster would like…you know, asters.”

Logan pushed his glasses up. “On the contrary. Mrs. Aster had a prominent dislike of asters — they grew so much in her front lawn that it disrupted the growth of her other flowers, she shared a name with them, and they ultimately symbolized patience; something she claimed she had very little of.”

“She sounds like quite the character,” Patton chuckled. “Why do you like them so much, then? The stargazer lilies, I mean — is there a particular reason why they’re your favourite?”

“There are a multitude of reasons,” Logan answered, “but, once again, I favour stargazer lilies due to the same reason Mrs. Aster favoured them.”

“And what would be that reason?”

Logan shrugged, sipping his wine. “Because they were pretty.”

It took a second for it to finally sink in, but Patton found himself giggling once more, nearly spitting out some of his drink.

“I do not understand why that information would be…humorous to you,” Logan stated, confused. “Is…there something wrong?”

“Of course not!” Patton smiled. “I just find it…funny. You’re a guy with so much knowledge on flowers and their meanings, yet your favourite flower is chosen based on… _appearance?_ ”

“It would appear so,” Logan hummed. “Again, there are a multitude of reasons why I am fond of stargazer lilies. They represent prosperity; they were made to overcome the downward, wilted look of their predecessor commercial lily, Rubrams; et cetera. However, I quite like the simplistic reasoning behind my choice. Some things are just…beautiful; even if you do not completely understand why.”

Patton blinked.

“Wow,” he finally said, “I did not know you were going to get so…so profound over lilies.”

“Me neither,” Logan replied quietly.

They ate in silence for a minute. Patton, without thinking, suddenly blurted out, “You know, I think you would be a really good husband.”

Logan nearly choked on his drink.

_“P-Pardon?”_

“I, um, in a good way, I guess?” Patton’s heart began to race. “I just think…you are really kind, Logan. You would make your future wife really happy. You, um…you make me happy.”

Silence. Patton quickly recovered, adding, “I mean, I-I am really glad to call you my…my friend! That’s…that’s what I meant by  _that_.”

He laughed nervously, watching as Logan slowly took another sip of his wine. The silence was almost unbearable.

“That’s very kind, Patton,” he said quietly, “but…but it would be  _husband_.”

“What?”

“Husband,” Logan repeated himself. “In this hypothetical situation that you have presented, I  would have a  _husband_.”

Logan paused, and added, “Is that a problem?”

“N-No!” Patton exclaimed. More quietly, he said, “Of course it isn’t. I, um, don’t really care who  you identify as. You’re still you after all.”

“That…that is a relief to hear, Patton,” Logan said. Patton bit his lip, watching as Logan continued to eat.

As if the night somehow stripped him of a filter, Patton added, “I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t accept you, considering I am pansexual.”

“Pansexual?” Logan echoed, trying not to seem too surprised. Patton nodded, suddenly nervous.

“Um, yeah.” He smiled sheepishly. “I…I don’t fall in love with genders or sexualities and what not.”

“I…I don’t quite understand.”

Patton shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “It’s just that ‘what’ the person isn’t as important to me as  _who_  the person is, you know? The important stuff isn’t influenced by who you were born as. I fall in love with thoughts. With memories. With experiences.”

Logan, without thinking it through, blurted out, “And a beautiful experience I have had with you.”

Silence.

“W-What?” Patton stammered. Logan’s eyes widened as well, and he scratched at his neck, swallowing thickly.

“With  _Heather_.” Logan looked terrified. “A-A beautiful experience Heather has had with…with  _you_. Surely.”

Patton wasn’t sure what to say,  
because on one hand,  _Logan was right;_  
~~he had to be.~~

On the other hand, Patton couldn’t help but envision how his life would be with  _Logan_.

Caring, serious,  
sweet and lovely  _Logan_.

He imagined what it would be like to wake up next to him, listening to birds sing and admiring the sunlight that peeked through their curtains. He imagined what it would be like to make breakfast  _alongside_  him, as he flipped pancakes and as Logan brewed coffee for two. He imagined how lazy their cat was, or what name their dog had. He imagined what it would be like to have an apartment full of bright, colourful flowers; instead of dull, monochrome paintings.

He imagined what it would be like to ki—

_What a fantasy._

The last thought snapped him back into reality. Heather…Heather was his  _first_. His  _only_. He was foolish to think that a life with Logan would be a perfect one;  _all he ever could be is a burden._

A second longer with him and Logan’s love would easily turn into  _hatred_. It’s happened with everyone he knew, and his heart couldn’t handle the thought of Logan  _hating_  him.

He was lucky that Heather was so tolerant as she was of his mistakes; it almost made him feel guilty that he wasn’t as thankful for that. That he was straying from her love. She made sure to make him better; she deserved only the most faithful soon-to-be fiancé.

_Better_. He had to be better.  
Isn’t that what he had to do?

For a split second, he thought about telling Logan  _everything_ ; that he was having doubts, that he was scared,  _that he didn’t want things to change_. But doing so would mean that he wouldn’t be  _happy_  — which was the only good in him. Being happy was his best trait; it’s why people kept him around. When he was happy, he was  _useful_ ; and when he was useful, others would forget about his mistakes.

Because people would leave if he wasn’t.  
_Logan would leave._

Heather…well, Heather  _stayed_. Everyone had their reason to leave Patton, despite how he  _strived_  to be happy; but Heather  _forgave_  and Heather  _stayed_.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

“Do you have a favourite flower, Patton?” Logan asked quietly, filling in the sudden silence.

“Huh?” Patton snapped out of his daze. “Oh, I…I’m not really sure. I really like anemones. They’re an autumn flower, I think.”

“Fascinating,” Logan hummed.

“Any specific meaning?” Patton asked.

“Anemones: represents forsaken, undying love.” Logan recited as if he was reading from a textbook. Hesitantly, Logan added, “I think it suits you, Patton.”

Before Patton could say anything else, he heard the familiar  _click!_  of the front door being unlocked.

He froze like a deer caught in headlights. Like prey.

“Pat?”

He immediately scrambled to his feet, rushing towards the front of the kitchen. Logan, still sitting down, watched as  _Heather_  entered the room.

Upon seeing Logan, Heather’s cold expression melted in an instant, a smile soon plastered on her face.

“Patty, dearest!” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. She whined, pouting a little, “Having a little party without me?” 

“N-No!” Patton said, clearly panicked. “Of…of course not! I just…we were just—”

“Patton had a business idea.” The two turned to face Logan, who promptly slammed the binders closed. “I suggested a casual discussion over a meal, and he offered to host. Somewhat of a…joint deal between our stores. With the whole, um…flowers and cards sort of thing.”

Heather glared at Patton, as if silently asking if what Logan was saying was true. Patton frantically nodded.

“Um, yeah!” He forced a smile. “Logan was thinking of making some kind of special bouquet to go with that…that design I showed you last week! The one t-that’s green, with the dinosaurs. Or…or whatever it was.”

“Riiiiight,” she drawled, obviously not buying it. She crossed her arms, looking at Logan. He seemed to take the hint and scooped up all of his binders in one arm.

“It was a  _pleasure_  seeing you again, Heather.” He went to shake Heather’s hand, but she pulled back icily. Logan paused, before digging his hand back in his pocket. He nodded towards Patton, smiling warmly at him and saying, “Do call me in regards to what we have discussed tomorrow, Patton. I…I feel as if this agreement would be of great benefit for both parties involved.”

“S-Sure.” Patton stood there, frozen, watching Logan open the front door. “Thanks for stopping by, Lo.”

Logan paused, and for a split second, Patton  ~~hoped~~  was  _afraid_  that Logan would stay.

Instead, Logan replied, “Thank you for having me, Patton. Goodnight.”

When the door slammed shut, Patton felt the apartment grow  _colder_. He shivered as he stared at the door.

He could feel Heather’s stare on him, and at that moment, Patton wished he had ran away with him.

“Care to explain yourself,  _Patty dearest?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- the next chapter, dear readers, is the explosion ;)
> 
> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	13. White Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "When he looked at the front door, he caught a glimpse of Heather, pressing someone against the glass door in a tight kiss, her hand tangled in the other’s blond hair. Looking closer, Logan noticed the vibrant blue on the person’s shirt and he sighed — Patton.
> 
> ‘Looks like they got over last night quickly,’ he thought sullenly.
> 
> He was tempted to throw his heavy copy of Volume II of Hybridizing at the window in the hopes of smashing it open — must they do that in front of him? Part of him hoped that Patton wouldn’t come in, as he was the last person Logan wanted to see—
> 
> Wait. His mind backtracked quickly: blond?"
> 
> (or alternatively: the explosion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: abuse (primarily emotional/manipulative), swearing, arguing, emotional break-down, self-deprecation, panic attack.
> 
> a/n- here we go, folks! this is the explosion! words cannot even describe how heckin’ excited i am for this chapter, as i went so far out of my comfort zone, heh :’) if you’re wondering how this got so angsty so quickly, you’ll have to blame thank @infinitesimalsolemnvow (tumblr) or SolemnVow (ao3) for pretty much bringing heather to life in this chapter, and being my wonderful co-writer! u da best, friendo <3
> 
> so without further ado, i present: the explosion. enjoy xx

_“white roses =  loyalty, faith; often linked to purity.”_ **  
**

~*~

Silence.

Cold, deafening silence. Patton could feel his heart squeeze as Heather raised an eyebrow. She was waiting for him to say something, he knew that. And he wanted to say something,  _anything_. But he was frozen. The warmth that had enveloped him so nicely seemed to have left with Logan. He longed for that warmth; but now only raw,  _cold_  fear gripped his heart.

“I’m  _waiting_ ,” Heather said, crossing her arms. The clicking of her heels as she impatiently tapped her foot was unbearably loud.

“I…” Patton felt his hands shake. He dug them deep into his pocket before Heather could see them. “I didn’t know you were coming home so early.”

“So you thought you could host a little get-together then?” she snapped back. She slowly walked towards him. “Patton, I came home from my trip  _because of you._  The little stunt you pulled with the glass? It got me worried  _sick_.”

“I-I’m sorry, Heather, I just—”

“Did you even bother trying to clean up?” Heather huffed, as if growing tired of the whole situation. “You’re not trying to make people think I’m a slob, right?”

“O-Of course not!” He quickly pointed to the trash can. “I cleaned up, I promise! The glass went in—”

“What on  _earth_  is on your hand?!”

Her loud voice echoed in Patton’s ears, and he flinched, wrapping his arms around his chest. Heather stormed towards him and grabbed his wrist, pulling it up in front of her face. Patton winced at the slight pressure.

****_you made her mad,_  
she’s going to leave,  
what have you done?! 

“T-The glass,” Patton stammered. “It w-was an accident, I swear, I just got a few scratches, that’s all—”

“ _Scratches_.” Heather began to laugh. She dropped his hand and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Goodness, Patton,  _so now you’re damaged too?_ My, my, my — now how do you expect me to ever show you my love ever again if I have  _those hands_  on my skin?”

“I-I’m sorry!” he babbled, panic quickly starting to bubble up in his stomach.

“I suppose you expect me to pay to restock the first-aid kit too!” she continued.

“I’ll pay for it all, I will!” Patton tried to say. Heather just put a hand in front of her, as if trying to block Patton out.

“You made me  _worry_  about you, Patton!” she argued. “God, how  _selfish_  could you be that you would make your own girlfriend worry about you?!”

“T-They’ll heal, I swear!” Patton insisted. “Logan told me once that light cuts take about a week to disappear; I’ll be better by then, I promise! He convinced me that they should be bandaged, but it wasn’t his fault. I know I shouldn’t have listened to him without consulting you first, but I promise he was just trying to help me!”

A beat of silence.

“Logan?” she asked; quieter this time. The sudden shift in tone caused panic to shoot through Patton. His hugged his chest, as if trying to secure himself.

“Um, y-yes. Logan.” He cleared his throat. “He was the one who noticed. The…the cuts, I mean.”

Heather circled Patton as if she was stalking her prey. Patton tensed up as she leaned in closer, standing behind him. She pushed his arms down from his chest to his side.

To Patton’s surprise, Heather kissed his neck, wrapping her arms  _tightly_  around his waist. He froze, biting his lip as she left another mark on his neck. It was agonizingly slow, and with every kiss, Patton felt his heart pick up speed.

She kissed up to his cheek, and when she pulled back, he swore he could feel her breath crawl against his skin.

“Tell me, Patton,” she whispered coldly. “did you feel  _anything?_ ”

“O-Of course I did.”  _ ~~ **Lies**. All you do is  **lie**~~_ ~~ **.**~~  “I…I love you, Heather.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it every now and then.” She pushed herself off Patton, who stumbled a few steps forward. She moved to stand in front of him once more.

“Let me ask you a question, Pat,” she said; “why was Logan  _really_  here?”

Patton paused, and replied quietly, “He told you why.”

“I’m not asking Logan, sweetie, I’m asking you.” Heather began to walk towards Patton, forcing him back. “Are you avoiding my question? Patton, dearest, I didn’t know you wanted to  _hurt my feelings_.”

“N-No!” Patton exclaimed, trying to fight off tears. “I would never!”

“Then  _answer me_ ,” she said firmly. Patton nearly tripped as he walked backwards, trying to keep some space between him and Heather.

“I…” For a split second, he considered telling Heather everything; about the proposal, about how he couldn’t live without her —  _anything_  to make her believe that he was worth it.

“I can’t tell you,” he said instead. Upon seeing Heather straighten up, he quickly added, “I-I want to tell you, I swear. B-But—”

He was cut off by Heather’s loud sob.

“So that’s it then, Patton?” Patton watched, heartbroken, as Heather began to tear up.  _“You’re cheating on me?”_

“H-Heather!” he insisted. “Please, you have to trust me — I would never hurt you like that. Heather,  _I love you_ —”

“Then for  _fuck’s_  sake, Patton!” she screamed through tears. Patton flinched.  _“Show me!”_

“Heather—” Patton weakly tried to protest.

“A few empty words, a few flimsy kisses,” Heather continued, “and  _that’s it._  I give you all my love and for _what?!_  Do you think that’s fair, Patton?!”

“Of course no—”

“Is it because you don’t love me anymore?!” Patton froze. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? Nine years— it’s been  _nine years_ , and you can’t even  _trust_   _me?!_ ”

“Heather, it’s not like that!” Patton desperately tried to explain. “I-It’s a surprise, I promise, I’m not trying to hurt you!”

“Is it Logan?” With every tear that fell from her face, Patton felt himself _break and break and **break**._

“S-Sweetheart—” Patton whispered quietly, trying to hold her hands. She pulled away.

“No, stop that!” she shrieked.  _“Don’t touch me!”_

~~**good for nothing,  
good for nothing  _monster_ —** ~~

“I-I’m so sorry, Heather,” Patton stammered, taking a few steps back. Heather glared at him darkly.

“If it isn’t him,” Heather hissed, “then  _who is it?_ ”

“No one!” Patton insisted. “Heather, darling, you have to believe me—”

“You give me  _nothing_ , yet you act like you’re just in…in  _love_  with him!”

“I don’t love him!” Patton cried out. “You’re the only one I love, Heather!”

“You’ve been spending more time with him,” Heather argued. “All I have ever heard from your mouth is  _his_  name.”

Before Patton could protest, Heather threw one hand to her hip, continuing mockingly, “ ‘Oh,  _Logan_  is doing this!’ ‘Oh,  _Logan_  told me that!’ ‘Oh,  _Logan_  invited us to his greenhouse!’ ”

“It’s not like that, I swea—”

“If you don’t love me anymore, then why don’t you just tell me that?!”

“Heather, that isn’t true, plea—”

“Then tell me, Patton,” Heather snapped,  _“what does Logan mean to you?”_

…Silence.   
Cold, deafening silence.

Time seemingly froze around them as he stared at Heather, whose face was drenched in tears. Patton’s words were caught in his throat, with no chance at escape.

He loved Heather. He really did. She was smart, funny, strong; and  _she didn’t need him,_  yet she still stayed. She didn’t have to, and Patton knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life proving to her that  _he was worth it._

So there  _was_  a really easy answer, Patton thought. He didn’t have to say anything else. Besides, the only thing that was important was that he just  _listened_. If he did, she’d be  _happy_  — and Patton wanted Heather to be nothing but  _happy_.

But for a split second,   
he wanted to tell her,   
_everything_.

When Heather’s curled her hands into tight fists, Patton suddenly remembered how much Heather  _hated_  silence. She narrowed her eyes at him, and that’s when Patton knew he was too late.

“Heather, darling, please don’t go—!” Patton reached out to try and grab her before Heather stormed out of the apartment. She slammed the door shut in his face.

He stared ahead, still breathing heavily.

_Alone.  
~~Just what he deserved.~~_

The panic that was bubbling inside of him was slowly rising; rising up until Patton—

_~~fell to his knees.  
(on the night of  **the**   **first mistake** ):~~ _

~~watched it shattered on the ground.~~  
and, for the first time ever,  
**heather screamed.**

~~and he was hated,~~  
~~worthless,~~  
_~~alone  
~~ _ ~~~~**nothing**.

—exploded. He sank to his knees, his hands falling flat on the floor in front of him. His vision was blurred through thick tears, and everything inside of him felt like it was snapping.

~~~~****_“Nothing, nothing,_  
nothing, nothing,   
nothing—”

And when he screamed through muffled hands,  
he felt as if it filled the  _nothing_.

The cold, deafening  
_nothing_.

* * *

When Logan went inside his shop the next morning, he was met with an eerie amount of  _silence_.

The bells hanging above the door that usually rang its happy song seemed hollow, the people walking outside behind him all wore ear-buds instead of talking to one another, and the sound of the cars behind him disappeared as soon as the door closed with a barely-existent  _thud!_

Logan sighed, turning on the lights, flipping the “open” sign over. He walked towards the back room, and felt as if he was dragging weights across the floor. When he went in, he sat down at his desk, papers in front of him.

Logan let out a small yawn. He would never admit it out loud, but he was  _exhausted_. After leaving Patton’s apartment as unexpectedly as he did, he forgot that it was Roman who gave him a ride to Patton’s and he had to take the bus back home. In hindsight, he knew he could’ve just called Roman for a ride back, but he didn’t feel like he could talk to  _anyone_  after last night.

The more he thought about what happened, the more he realized that Patton was  _scared_. It didn’t take an expert in feelings to know that. Logan, after all, knew that all the signs of fear were present; freezing at a mere sound, increased stuttering, growing tense with  _every damn step ~~they~~   **she**  made._

There was no doubt in Logan’s mind that last night—paired with the memory of the  _bruise_  on Patton’s neck at his party weeks ago—proved that Patton and Heather’s relationship was nowhere near a healthy one. All the signals were right in front of him, like a glaring billboard; so close, in fact, that it made Logan think Patton was  _blind_. How could he not see it?

_‘Love is blind,’_ his mind so unhelpfully supplied. He frowned.

Perhaps it was wrong, but Logan wished Patton was braver. More outspoken, at least. Every word that came out of Patton’s mouth the night before felt forced, and every smile he wore seemed more like a  _shield_. If he only knew that he was stronger than her,  _he’d realize that he didn’t need her._

Logan shook the thought of his head. It was stupid,  _very stupid,_ to wish that Patton would be braver. Patton faced all of her abuse with a  _smile_ ; how could he say he wasn’t brave? After all, he was the one who couldn’t save Patton, or at least try to help him. All he did was leave, like a damn  _coward_ , while Patton stayed behind to face her  _alone_.

If anyone had to be braver, it should’ve been  _him_.

He paused. Maybe he should’ve called Roman for that ride after all.

Logan sighed, grabbing a pencil and tapping it against the edge of the desk. When he looked down, he realized that he was staring at papers filled with research for the flower he wanted to create for Patton.

In all honesty, he didn’t even remember half of what he wrote. Most of it was written after closing hours, when he stayed back in his shop to get things done. Jen—who agreed to help him for most of the project—was usually only available at night, which meant Logan had to spend a lot of his nights on the phone holding a large coffee. They were able to come up with the perfect candidate for the golden-lily they were aiming for; funnily enough, they were thinking of using  _stargazer lilies._

His briefly stopped reading through his notes and back-tracked to an earlier thought: this was all for the flower he wanted to create  _for_   _Patton_.

He was suddenly filled with rage— no,  _frustration_. He shoved the papers aside.

What was he doing? All of his efforts—this extensive research, late nights,  _everything_ —aimed towards making Patton change his mind; or rather, making Patton  _love him._

It was beyond stupid. Even before he knew about Heather, he had been playing a dangerous game. There was only one outcome from this and that was heartbreak. He knew that everything he did would be pointless; whether he successfully saves Patton from Heather, or if he makes him a  _stupid_ flower, was he really so arrogant to believe that he would have a chance? He could barely be what Patton needed — he could barely be a  _friend_. Plain and simple, Logan couldn’t handle dealing with other people; hell, he didn’t even know how to deal with himself.

Logan grabbed his hair in small clumps, frustrated, as he hunched over the now cleared desk. He felt something rising, but he tried to push it all down; he  _refused_  to cry again. This pain, this  _heartbreak_. All of this was exactly why he so desperately tried to create a barrier between himself and others. Feeling  _anything_  was so overwhelming and so  _messy_. He liked order and cleanliness and  _calm_  — all feelings ever did was create horrid chaos in his life. Why couldn’t anything ever be simple? Understandable?  _Logical?_

The more Logan thought about Patton and how far everything was from his reach, the more he felt himself grow angrier and angrier. His heart squeezed at the idea of watching Patton marry that…that…woman.

Sweet, kind Patton — he didn’t deserve such a life.  
But then again, did Patton really deserve such a life with a heartless robot?

All Logan ever did was disappoint people. He spared a glance at his abandoned plans that were strewn all over the floor. Always so focused on work, but never good enough. Couldn’t succeed adequately in academics, can’t succeed in provided optimal emotional support.

He was broken.   
_Patton deserved better than broken._

A loud  ** _thud!_** snapped Logan out of his thoughts. He straightened up at his desk, putting his pencil down and going out of the back room and towards the front counter.

When he looked at the front door, he caught a glimpse of  _Heather_ , pressing someone against the glass door in a tight kiss, her hand tangled in the other’s blond hair. Looking closer, Logan noticed the vibrant blue on the person’s shirt and he sighed —  _Patton_.

_‘Looks like they got over last night quickly,’_  he thought sullenly.

He was tempted to throw his heavy copy of  _Volume II of Hybridizing_  at the window in the hopes of smashing it open — must they do that in front of him? Part of him hoped that Patton wouldn’t come in, as he was the  _last_  person Logan wanted to see—

Wait. His mind backtracked quickly:  _blond?_

Logan watched in horror as Heather turned Patton around and realized that  _no, that wasn’t Patton_. Instead, it was someone else, whose smile was less caring and more  _smug_.

Logan wanted to throw up. Or scream. Or both. He felt everything in his body go into overdrive, yet all he could do was stay rooted in his place.

He watched helplessly as Heather kissed the man once more before he walked away. When he noticed that Heather didn’t leave either, he realized that there was a possibility that she could go into his shop, and he was suddenly filled with an indescribable  _fire_.

That…  
that  _bitch_.

As expected, Logan watched as the door swung open.

_Enter Heather._  She pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head as she walked in, readjusting her bag to rest on her shoulder.

When she got to the front counter, Logan was speechless. A thousand words came to his mind—most of them would probably get him a less than ideal review—but he found himself unable to say anything.

The silence felt like it would last forever.

“Hello,  _Logan!_ ” she chirped, flashing a bright smile at him.

It took all of Logan’s willpower not to punch her right there. He felt tempted to say something,  _anything_ , about what he just saw.

Instead, he said, “Salutations,  _Heather_.”

“Ooh, salutations! How  _formal_.” Heather grinned, and added, “And a bit  _stuck-up.”_

Logan’s hand tightened into a fist behind the counter.

“How can I be of assistance?” Logan gritted out.

“No wonder this place seems so much like a desert,” she continued. “I can just  _really_  feel the warmth!”

“I suppose it tends to get a bit  _heated_  here sometimes.” Logan bit his lip before he could say anything else.

Heather stared at him coldly, before her smile grew once more.

“Anyway, I’m just looking for a bouquet to give to Patty! We had a little… _disagreement_  last night, so I thought it might be nice to get him something from here. Heard you were a  _good florist,_ ” she said. “I’m sure he’ll love whatever  _you_  come up with. He always gets so worked up, but he’s silly like that.”

Logan paused, not knowing what to say. There were a multitude of flowers he thought would be appropriate for her— _orange lilies for hatred, hydrangeas for heartless_ —but he knew that it would be illogical for him to snap at her right away. Besides, this is a bouquet for  _Patton_. He should put everything Patton deserved.

He sighed, walking around the counter and along the walls of flower displays. Heather watched as he stopped at the roses.

“Roses?” Heather smirked. “A bit cliché, don’t you think?”

“Depends on how you go about your choice.” He leaned over and picked up a white rose, holding it up to the light. “I believe white roses would be adequate. They represent loyalty and faith, often linked to purity as well.”

He walked towards Heather, the rose still in hand. She frowned, crossing her arms as Logan approached her casually.

“And pure love is real love, if you ask me,” he continued, losing himself to the adrenaline that came rushing as he continued to confront her.  “No lies or secrets; just roots down to love in its simplest form. It’s the kind of love that is similar to the love displayed in fairytales — fanciful and seemingly naive, yes, but  _strong_. Passionate. It’s the kind of love you are not willing to throw away, and it’s the kind of love you share with someone you believe, as some people may say, means the  _world_  to you.”

Heather watched as Logan went around the counter, laying the single white rose on the surface between them.

“I can also wrap your bouquet of white roses in ivy for free, if you so desire,” he added. “Ivy represents fidelity, after all; something of  _great value_  in a relationship, from what I hear. It would wrap together a bouquet of twenty four white roses quite nicely, don’t you think?”

He chuckled lightly, and Heather straightened up, tension rising.

“Oh, I am getting ahead of myself,  _I apologize._ ” Logan adjusted his glasses, looking down at the rose between them. “I often recommend bouquets of twenty four to those who want to send the message _‘I’m dedicated to you.’_ Which is sweet, no? I believe it gets  _your_  message through quite clearly, if you ask me.”

Logan stared at Heather, before resting his arms on the counter and leaning forward, towards her.

He smiled;   
_now it was his time to be brave_

“Now then,” he said, “should I wrap that up for you?”

Silence. He watched as Heather’s expression darkened.

“Are you trying to say something, Mr. Fray?” She tapped her heel against the wooden floor. Logan nearly flinched at that ominous clicking. She leaned over the counter as well, almost mirroring Logan.

She narrowed her eyes at him and suddenly, all of the bravado left Logan like a popped balloon. It took all of his strength not to tremble under her harsh gaze.

“Are you implying I’m not  _good enough_  for  _my_  Patton? Aren’t you so  _smart_.” Her voice was cold and dripping with sarcasm. The harsh look in her eyes brooked no argument. “You think you’re being  _brave?_ You think this is a joke?”

She grinned, circling around the counter to get face-to-face with Logan.

“I know you like my Patty. It must get you all twisted up inside to know that he’s  _mine;_  no matter  _what_.” She sniffed, turning her nose up at Logan. “Besides, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a man who lusted after other people’s garbage.”

She grinned as Logan tensed up.

“Ah, ah, ah,  _flower boy._  No need to be vicious.” She waved her finger at him. “We’re all adults here, aren’t we? Having an adult conversation?”

She pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from her bag and, before Logan could say anything else, took a drag. Logan watched as she looked at him, her eyes filled with  _fire_ , and blew out smoke.

“I let you have your little moment. Let me have mine,” she said, stepping closer towards Logan. “Here’s the thing, and I’ll even put it into terms that you can comprehend: I have invested too much  _time_  and  _money_  into into this little  _project_  to just let it go. Do you know how hard I’ve worked to mold that pathetic lump into something  _respectable?_  Yet he’s  _still_  not ready for the public. Such a sad, silly little sap.”

She paused to take another drag of her cigarette.

“Honestly, if it wouldn’t turn out to be such a huge waste of my time, I’d honestly let you have him! But, he’s  _mine_. I found him first. Go find some other charity case. Maybe his brother.” She mocked a sympathetic smile. “Honestly, you should have more self respect than to surround yourself with such pitiful excuses for human beings. Maybe you can’t handle life with your betters and peers, so you wallow in filth. I can understand that.”

She took one step towards him and pointed her cigarette at him.   
Logan took a step back.

“But between you and me?  _ **Back off.** ”_ Some ash fell onto the floor. “I’ll give you a warning now, because you’ve obviously gotten my pet enamoured with you so  _easily_  and I can respect that — even be a little jealous of it. But you better  _stay out of my business_ , or there will be consequences.”

She leaned against the counter, grinning.

“My father is one of the richest men in this shit city and he  _adores_  me. I’ve got him wrapped around my finger and he won’t hesitate to end you. I will end you in whatever way hurts most.” She smiled sweetly as she extinguished her cigarette onto the white rose on the counter.

“Keep your fucking flowers because guess what, flower boy? I’ve got dearest  _Patton_  wrapped around my finger too, and there’s nothing you can do to change that. He may be smitten with you, but he’s in love with  _me_.” She grinned, breathing a bit of smoke into his face.

Logan coughed, waving the smoke away. The entire time he had been paralyzed, unable to process the creature in front of him.

“You’re…you’re a  _monster_.” Logan choked out. Heather grinned.

“Ah, ah, ah! Now, what does that say about you?” She placed her hand on his shoulder, and watched as he tensed up under her touch. She leaned over to whisper in his ear,  _“I think you and I are more alike than you’d think.”_

She winked. “I claimed him first, sweetie. You can’t have him.”

Logan said nothing, watching as Heather walked towards the exit.

“Remember my promise, flower boy!” she called out to him, blowing him a kiss before slamming his door shut with a thunderous  _clang!_

Logan winced at the sound. He let out a shaky breath, still facing the door, before picking up the rose. He brushed the cigarette off the counter and stared at the rose. It was singed, and a hole had been burnt through. A wave of anger—or was it  _fear?_  Oh, how he hated  _emotions_ —passed through him.

Flower boy.  _Flower boy?_  Logan gritted his teeth, going over to the front door and slammed the sign to read “closed.” He made sure the door was locked before going towards the back room.

He slammed the burnt rose on the counter as he stormed by it.

* * *

Roman took off his apron as he nodded towards Thomas, signalling that he was going on lunch break.

“Going to visit flower nerd?” Thomas asked. Roman laughed.

“Someone has to,” he replied. “Call me back if Virgil decides to pop in early. I think his lecture is done soon.”

“Will do.” Thomas gave him a small salute as Roman breezily walked through the café, smiling at a few customers before heading out the door. He smiled as a cool breeze passed by him, looking both ways before crossing the road towards Logan’s shop.

When he got to the other side, he paused, slowing down.

For starters, the sign on the door was blue, the words “closed” sprawled across it instead of its usual, red “open.” Roman frowned, also taking note of the darkness that filled the shop.

_‘What on Earth…’_  Roman went up to the shop hesitantly and knocked on the door.

“Lo?” No answer. He smiled shakily, knocking once more. “Oh come on, Princess  _Daisy_ , I don’t have all day!”

All of the sudden, he heard the faint sound of glass  _smashing_. His eyes widened, and he quickly fished through his pockets to retrieve his spare keys to Logan’s shop.

“L-Logan?” he asked, more nervous this time. When he got no response, Roman pushed the keys in and with one swift twist, he swung the door open. Roman stumbled into the dark shop, overhearing some rustling in the back room.

“Show yourself, you fiend!” Roman said, grabbing the emergency umbrella that Logan kept near the register as he walked towards the back. He held it out in front of him as if it were a sword. “I won’t let you rob this shop, or my name isn’t Roman Pri—”

“It’s not a robbery, Roman,” he heard a familiar voice say shakily.

Roman frowned, slowly walking into the room and turning on his phone’s light to reveal  _Logan_ ; who was kneeling on the ground, surrounded by papers, glass, and some broken flower pots.

“What happened, then, Logan?” Roman stepped closer, wincing as he heard the crunch of broken glass.

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but found himself wordless. Instead, he found himself staring at his now-empty desk, covered by ripped pieces of paper. He closed his eyes.

_That was **Patton’s**.  
Patton’s perfect flower._

_He remembered seeing it as he stormed into the workshop and nearly **screaming** , an angry hand sweeping across his desk, sending most of the objects flying off the surface. The pot that held his pencils smashed on the ground as papers fluttered around Logan’s man-made storm._

_He let out a hoarse scream as he grabbed the research in his hand tightly and tore it up, throwing it at the ground._

_Love was a **lie**.   
An awful, disgusting  **lie**._

_As he threw another torn page to the ground, he couldn’t help but feel **sick**  at the idea that he really was no better than Heather; he saw a handsome man and he couldn’t help but gravitate towards him. He had  **wanted** Patton, even before he knew Heather — even after he knew Patton was in a relationship._

_**Smash!** He grabbed a potted plant off one of the steel shelves and threw it at the wall, watching it shatter against the surface._

_Fidelity didn’t seem to matter to his heart as he failed to stomp out those unprofessional feelings. He didn’t correct her during any of the horrid things that she said. He was selfish and a coward._

_He wanted to be **brave**.   
What a  **foolish**  idea._

_‘Patton thinks you’d be a good husband,’ a voice in his head kindly reminded him._

_‘Oh, **hush**.’ Another voice hissed, ‘Patton doesn’t really know you, does he?  **Your parents were right.**  What a huge  **disappointment**. Can’t even stand up for the one that you  **love**.’_

_He ripped another piece of paper in two, letting out a hoarse sob._

_‘Pathetic.’_

_He barely heard the door open._

_‘Pathetic.’_

_He fell to his knees, not caring about the pain._

_**‘Pathetic.’** _

For the second time today, Logan was at a complete loss for words. How could he even begin to explain all of his failures to his one friend?

Roman noticed the tears streaming down Logan’s face and, somewhat understanding him, decided to intervene.

“Oh, Logan…” He pulled his friend into a hug. Logan limply followed through, burying his face into Roman’s chest.

“Love hurts sometimes, Dr. Doom and Bloom. But that’s not your fault — you’re…you’re a good guy.”

Logan clenched his fists as he felt more tears fall.

“Love is illogical, messy, and  _awful_ , Roman.”

Roman sighed, patting Logan on the back. “Come on. We’re going to cheer you up, okay?”

“ _It hurts so much._ ”

“That’s how we know we’re alive.” Logan looked up at him with a frown, and Roman gave him a small smile. “Come on, Crofter’s and cookies at my place.”

“But Rom—”

“We can clean this up tomorrow,” Roman insisted. “Right now, you need some healthy healing time.” He booped Logan’s nose. “Get your bag, we’re leaving. I did say Crofter’s, did I not?”

As Logan sluggishly moved to gather his belongings, Roman texted Thomas on the sly.   
  
_‘ONEHtL,’_  he typed. A few seconds later, Thomas replied,  _‘What?’_

Roman sighed. _‘Official Nerd Emergency. Have to Leave. Duh’_

_‘Okay…What happened???’_

_‘I’ll explain later! Thx <3’_

Roman pocketed his phone and turned to face Logan. He looked so haggard and frail, standing there, clutching his bag. Roman’s heart went out to his dearest nerd. However, seeing his pillar of unwavering strength falter and crumble so harshly  _scared_  Roman.

“All set to go?” Roman held out his arm to him.

Logan took Roman’s offered arm with a shaky hand.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Roman…” His voice was hoarse and quiet.

Roman began walking towards the entrance when, all of a sudden, it began to pour.

“Good thing you’re always prepared, eh, pocket protector?” Roman smiled and held up the umbrella. Logan didn’t look amused, but his expression softened. Roman couldn’t help but smile wider as he saw a bit more of his nerd. He was doing good.

He opened the umbrella and stepped out, shielding them both from the rain as Logan locked up shop. He distracted Logan with exciting tales of his adventures at his shop as they walked to his car. He kept a close eye on Logan and even managed to get a small chuckle out of him.

He smiled at his small victory and hoped that the rain would clear up soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	14. Red Camellias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you went away and my heart went with you,  
> i speak your name in my every breath.  
> if there is some other way to prove that i love you,  
> i swear i don't know how.  
> you'll never know if you don't know now" ~ "you'll never know," vera lynn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: swearing, implied non-con sex, emotional abuse/manipulative behaviour, alcohol, people being drunk, implied self-harm.
> 
> a/n- this was a heckin bitch to write, but i am ultimately proud of it! of course, this would all suck if @infinitesimalsolemnvow (tumblr)/SolemnVow (AO3) didn’t help me out with it — we basically spent many late nights working on this, and it was with her that we created this angst-fest :’))
> 
> i hope you enjoy it though, dearest readers ^-^
> 
> ***please heed warnings; again, this is a pretty intense chapter. stay safe, friendos <33 ***
> 
> [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZtWNlCTc6o is the link to the song featured in the chapter, “you’ll never know” originally sung vera lynn. i listened to the one from the shape of water soundtrack, which you can find here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UW1ouSDLQWM]

_“red camellias = you’re a flame in my heart.”_

~*~

Patton felt as if he was on  _fire_.

He didn’t know how long he had been awake, or how long it had been since he stopped crying. All he knew was that it had been one day since Heather left, his eyes were burning from keeping them open for so long, and that the time was slowly approaching 9:15 pm.

If she was ever going to come back,   
~~if he hadn’t messed up so badly,~~  
it would be now.

So he picked himself off his feet in the early hours of the following morning and had been moving ever since. After all, there was no reason for him to be as pathetic as everyone  ~~ _but not Heather, not Heather; she would never_~~  already thought he was.

He cleaned every inch of the floor that the glass could’ve touched; scrubbed at any scratch until his hands felt raw and the air around him permeated with the scent of strong chemicals.

He quickly left the house to replace the bandages that he selfishly wasted, and he bought a brand new set of glasses, with the silver phoenixes etched on the glass; the ones Heather loved the most.

~~He took a shower and scrubbed at his scratches  
until they were raw and red;~~

~~clawed at his face in front of the mirror  
until the tears looked like they never existed;~~

~~broke down again and again and _again_ ,  
until he felt his skin  _burn_.~~

He lit scented candles and placed them on the table. He cooked Italian, Thai,  _and_  Mexican food, just in case; he planned on asking Heather what she was in the mood for  ~~if~~  when she came back.

He made her a card — something with a green dinosaur  ~~because he never lies, not to Heather.~~ , and sets it on the centre of the table besides the candles.

He scrolled through his phone, deciding to play a song because it was too quiet, too empty. “You’ll Never Know” by Vera Lynn began to play softly.

~~_a long time ago, heather said she wanted that song to be their first dance,  
holding him  **tightly**  after vowing to never let go._ ~~

“You went away, and my heart went with you…” he sang quietly as he prepared dinner.

_~~The memory made the room feel tighter.  
It’s off their wedding playlist.~~ _

And when everything was done,  
and when he finally sat still at the dinner table,   
all he did was wait.

He watched the candle’s flame as it flickered back and forth, back and forth.   
And his eyes flickered between the front door and the clock; back and forth,  _back and forth._

_9:13 pm.  
9:14 pm._

Patton slowly tapped to the beat of the song, trying to fight off tears.

 _‘She can’t leave,’_  is his first thought.  _‘She can’t leave me, she just can’t.’_

His nails dug into his skin;  
_what a selfish, **selfish**  thought._

As soon as the idea disappeared, he sullenly came to the conclusion that if she didn’t come back, it would make sense.

_~~**It’d be because he’s a monster.** ~~ _

_9:15 pm._

His heart began to race, and he desperately reminded himself that there were sixty seconds in a minute —  _he trusted Heather, he trusted her with every burning fibre of his being._

She’d come back.  
_~~She has to.~~_

_9:16 pm._

Patton felt himself  _burning_ ,   
_burning_ ,  
**_burning_** —

His head perked up at the noise from the entrance as the clock reached  _9:17_  pm. When his eyes flickered to the door, he saw  _Heather_ , her hand still on the door handle.

“H-Heather,” he stammered, rushing up towards her and grabbing her hands. He pulled her close, sobbing in her chest. “Heather—  _God_ , Heather, I’m so happy you’re here.”

Heather said nothing.

“I-I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, trembling.  _ ~~He promised himself he wouldn’t cry; **pathetic** ,  **pathetic** ,  **pathetic**.~~_  He felt Heather stare at him—

_~~on his knees, had to beg for it;  
**“then give me a reason to forgive you”**~~ _

—and he sunk to his knees slowly.

He said, still staring at the ground, “I don’t deserve you.”

There was no song— _no noise_ —that could override the burning silence,  ~~the shame~~  Patton realized.

 _“Get up.”_  Upon hearing Heather’s demanding voice, he did as he was told, shakily standing up to his feet and staring at her. For someone as small as she was, Patton felt as if Heather towered above him.

Heather narrowed her eyes before looking behind him and sneaking a glance at the kitchen. Patton’s breath hitched as she slowly made her way to the dining table. She trailed a finger idly along the edge of the table, observing the newly-replaced glasses, the scented candles, and the card.

“What…what do you want for dinner?” he asked quietly, desperately trying to fill the silence.

She paused, not looking at him. “Do we have leftover Chinese?”

Patton bit his lip. 

_~~Never good enough,  
**never good enough.**~~ _

“No,” he said instead. “I’m sorry.”

“I figured as much,” she said icily, and Patton felt his heart break. Heather licked the tip of her index finger and quickly extinguished the flame of the scented candles. The room went a little darker.

“Do you know why I’m here, Patton?” Heather finally said. When Patton said nothing, Heather stormed up to him,  _closer now,_  and grabbed the middle of his shirt. She growled,  _“Do you?”_

“A-A second chance,” Patton blurted out. “Did…did you want to give me another chance?”

Heather glared at him. “I’m not here to  _give_  you anything.”

_~~Bad mistake.~~ _

“Y-You’re here to…to hear me a-ask for it,” he tried again. Patton fought off a relieved smile when he saw the corner of Heather’s lips perk up.

“Close,” she said, slowly making her way to him once more. “I’m here to watch you  _show me that you deserve it._  And right now,  _you’re disappointing me._ ”

Patton felt her breath on his skin as she got closer.

“You see, Patton,” she explained, “I don’t want your  _silly_  card. I don’t want a  _fucking_  dinner. All you had to do when I walked through this door was make me feel  _better_.”

She paused, lifting her head up. “But all you’re trying to do is make  _yourself_  feel good.”

“I-I am sorry,” Patton stammered. “I don’t m-mean to, it’s just that—”

“I think you do, Patton!” she screamed. Patton flinched. “I can only give you so many hints so many times! It’s like you don’t even care!”

Patton opened his mouth to protest—or weakly apologize; he wasn’t sure what would be better at this point—but Heather held her index finger up before he could say anything.

“Well there’s no need to be selfish,” She lifted his chin with her finger,  _“Patton, dearest._  All of this can be reversed in one simple step.”

 _The song was ending, Patton noticed._  He stared at Heather, who was slowly trailing her finger from his chin to his chest. He had to say something;  _anything_.

“I-If there is some other way to prove that…that I love you—” Heather stopped moving, coming to a complete halt. Patton froze.

Heather combed pieces of Patton’s hair behind his ear. Her touch felt cold. Her voice sounded even  _colder_.

“You’ll never know if you don’t know  _now_ ,” she finished for him, her icy voice wrapping around his head as she sung.

Patton closed his eyes as he felt Heather get closer.

Silence.

“Now,” Heather whispered, “instead of singing a  _fucking_  song, how about you answer the question I asked earlier?”

“I—”

Her hand went to his wrist. Patton’s eyes snapped open.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

Patton shakily brought his hand to brush the hair from her face. He gave her his best smile.

“Y-You need to feel better,” he managed to say. “I-I…I need to make you feel better.”

Heather smiled, pulling him into a  _tight_  kiss. Patton felt as if the air was slowly being returned to him, and he gave into the kiss; gave into  _her_.

When they broke apart, Heather let out a breathy sigh.

“Now you’ve got it, Patton, dearest. Make me feel  _good_.” She grinned as he hesitantly ran his hands down her sides. “That’s my good Patton.”

Because he loved her.  
And she loved him too.

Patton remembered this as he placed his hands behind her neck and pulled her in for another kiss.

The sound of his bedroom door being closed filled the silence  
and so did Heather’s moans.

_This is all he needed._

“I can be all you’ll ever need,” Patton whispered as they both fell onto his bed, still in a tight embrace, “I promise.”

Heather smirked as she kissed him once again  
_and Patton gave her what she needed to be **happy**._

* * *

The next day, when Virgil walked into Patton’s shop, he was greeted by the sound of jazz music blasting from the store’s speakers and Patton’s wide smile.

“Virgil!” he chirped, hopping off the stool behind the front counter and rushing to his brother. He wrapped him in a warm hug. “It’s so nice to see you!”

Virgil squirmed under Patton’s tight embrace.

“Um, you too,” he muttered, flashing a small smile in return. The more Virgil looked at Patton, the brighter his smile seemed.

Virgil frowned; Patton only got super touchy after something  _bad_  happens.

“How are you, Virge?” Patton asked when the two broke apart, going over to the counter once more to grab a box. Virgil followed him quietly, hands in his sweater pockets as Patton walked down the aisles, re-stocking cards.

“Fine,” he said lowly. “Um, nothing much happening, I mean. Nothing new at least. How about yo—”

“Nothing new can be a good thing, I suppose!” Patton’s voice was too loud,  _too bright_. Virgil dug his hands deeper into the pockets, his fingers twisting the fabric.

Patton leaned against the shelf animatedly. “Say, how’s Roman doing? I haven’t heard about him in a while!”

Virgil frowned, almost overwhelmed by Patton’s sudden curiosity.

“I…” He looked down. “We’re fine.”

Patton paused half-way through placing a fresh stock of cards on the shelf.

“We?” Patton echoed. His smile grew. “Since when did it become ‘we’?”

Virgil blushed, and after a beat of silence, he mumbled, “Getting there.”

Patton squealed loudly, dropping the box of cards. The loud noise startled Virgil, and he was suddenly wrapped in another warm embrace.

“Ahh, that’s so exciting!” Patton exclaimed happily, squeezing him tightly. “I’m so happy for you! Goodness, Virgil, that’s so exciting!”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ll…I’ll make sure to update you on how that goes,” Virgil said, and slowly let go of Patton, who flashed him a vibrant smile.

“But, um, enough about me!” Virgil did his best to smile just as brightly as Patton. He picked up the box and continued to re-stock cards for Patton. “I haven’t heard about you in awhile, I guess. What…what goes on?”

Virgil winced at his attempt at trying not to seem nervous. If Patton noticed, he didn’t bring any attention to it.

Instead, Patton sighed happily, “Good things! That’s what goes on, Virge!”  
  
“Um…good!” Virgil cleared his throat, moving stiffly as he tried to replace the cards on the top shelf. “Yeah, that’s…good to hear.”

“You know,” Patton continued, skipping in front of Virgil, “I actually have a fun little thing happening tonight — do you wanna hear about it?”

Virgil couldn’t help but watched Patton’s enthusiasm grow, amused.

“Always,” he replied with a soft smile.

Patton plucked a set of cards out of the box and placed them on the top shelf for Virgil, standing on the tips of his toes. Patton grinned widely as he moved back towards Virgil. He placed an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m proposing to Heather tonight.”

Virgil’s smile fell, his eyes widening. In a mere sentence, Patton was able to make Virgil’s heart drop.

“Y-You…” Virgil took a deep breath. “You’re  _what?_ ”

“Proposing!” Patton chirped. “I’m proposing to Heather  _tonight_ ,” he stated with a finality that felt more like a nail in a coffin to Virgil than anything exciting.

Patton grabbed a stack of romance-cards and pressed them to his chest, practically waltzing down the aisle dreamily. Virgil watched him, almost dumbfounded.

“Tonight,” Virgil said incredulously.

“Yup!” Patton spun to face him once more. “ _Tonight!_ ”

Patton continued to skip through his shop, Virgil slowly trailing behind him. He didn’t exactly know what he could say — Patton was getting  _married_. To Heather, of all people.

~~_because when he went to patton’s apartment  
**on that night,**_ ~~

Virgil couldn’t help but feel  _scared_.

Patton, however, nodded happily.

“I got the ring a few weeks back,” he exclaimed brightly. “Gold band— I think the guy said it was a grade G diamond? Something about the gem; I don’t really know. Looks pretty though!”

“Patton…” Virgil trailed off nervously, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie.

“I’m planning to do it at the restaurant I took her on our first date all those years back.” Patton giggled quietly to himself. “Maybe I’ll do something like in all those rom-coms; put it in the cake, maybe stick it in the wine? Or will the diamond rust? Does it work that way?”

“Patton—“ Virgil took a step towards Patton.

“I’m actually going to Logan’s before picking Heather up myself!”  _Virgil could feel his heart race a little too quickly._  “I’ll ask what flowers represent the purest kind of love; ask him to wrap it in a bouquet of twenty-fo—“

 _“Patton,”_ Virgil said firmly, closing his eyes and grabbing Patton’s shoulder.

Patton froze at the contact, placing the stack of romance-cards onto the shelf and slowly turning towards Virgil.

“What’s up?” Patton’s cheery smile slowly fell,  _and Virgil hated himself for it._ “I…Is there something wrong?”

Everything, Virgil couldn’t help but think—

~~_because on the night of the first mistake,  
virgil was the one who picked up the pieces._ ~~

~~_he went to his apartment days after it happened_~~   
~~(ironically enough, to see if patton had any spare cups for that party his roommate was having)~~   
~~and found patton surrounded by beer bottles instead.~~

~~_and he was the one who stayed behind,  
and he was the one who listened to him  **cry** :_ ~~

~~_listen to him cry about how no one could love him;_~~   
~~about how he was the worst boyfriend ever;~~   
~~and how heather deserved **better**.~~

~~_and it hit **too close**  to home for virgil.  
and it made him  **scared**._ ~~

—and the fire in his chest began to burn.

“It’s just that…” Virgil snuck a glance at Patton, whose smile was now replaced with nervous eyes. He bit his lip, almost frustrated. “What made you decide…now?”

“What’s wrong with now?” Patton immediately asked, almost hurt.

“Nothing!” Virgil replied defensively.  _Patton flinched when Virgil raised his voice_ , and Virgil stuffed his hands back in his pockets. “There’s nothing wrong with now, um, per se — it’s just…I’m…I, uh, I’m just—”

“You’re going to have to love her eventually.” The sudden cold tone of Patton’s voice took Virgil by surprise. “She’s  _family_.”

“But—”

“I don’t know how you grew to…to  _hate_  her so much,”—Patton sounded  _angry_ , and Virgil felt as if everything was too tight—“but she would never hurt me. However, right now, it almost feels like  _you want to_.”

“Patton, I—”

“Don’t you realize how much she loves me?” Patton cut him off. “I’m happy with her, Virgil.  _Don’t you want me to be happy?”_

 _Ouch_. Virgil wasn’t too sure how to respond to Patton’s sudden, fiery behaviour. All he knew was that he didn’t recognize him as the loveable, caring,  _understanding_  brother he knew all too well. He didn’t recognize Patton as  _Patton_  at all.

Then he realized who he was staring at.

 _Her_.

Virgil felt as if the room was closing in on him. Patton was standing in front of completely fine, sure; but all he could see was Patton attached on strings, his mouth sewn  _shut_.

Patton’s words echoed around his head,  
_and she was right behind him, holding the strings._

“She just…reminds me of someone I know.” Virgil looked down and saw Patton’s hands trembling at his sides. He looked back up at Patton, who turned away from him and tapped his foot.

“Are you sure about this?” he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Arms crossed and back still facing Virgil, Patton mumbled quietly, “What do you mean?”

“Are you sure,” Virgil echoed, “about the proposal. Do…do you love her?”

Silence.

“Virgil, I have never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” Patton said firmly. “And…and it’s her before anyone else. She’s all I’ll ever need, Virge;  _I love her more than anything in the world.”_

Virgil fought off tears, or the urge to  _fucking scream._

“Right,” he said instead. Patton’s eyes immediately widened.

“Wait, Virgil, I just mea—” Patton stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Virgil sigh, grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie.

“I…I am really happy for you, Pat. And you know I only wish the happiest life for you.”

“Virgil, I…” Patton trailed off, reaching over to grab Virgil’s hand.

Virgil pulled back and grabbed his phone from his pocket instead, turning on the screen wordlessly.

“My…my professor needs me to meet with me in ten minutes,” he said slowly, beginning to back away from Patton. He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I love you, Patton.  _More than anything.”_

“Virgil—”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Virgil said, his hand grasped tightly on the door handle. “Tell me how it goes tonight, okay?”

Virgil pulled the door open and walked out before he could hear Patton say anything else. Taking a shaky breath, he pulled out his phone once more and opened up his messages.

 _“roman,”_  he typed,  _“can we meet up tonight?”_

After a few seconds, Roman replied,  _“Of course, dearest shadowling <3”_

* * *

It didn’t take long for the day to end. Roman waved at one of the last baristas as they headed towards the door, continuing to wipe off the counter.

He hummed quietly to a song playing on his laptop as he walked around the counter to adjust one of the stools when Virgil walked past the barista who was leaving. Roman looked up to see him looking around the café, and his smile widened.

“Virgil!” Upon hearing his name, Virgil perked up, slipping his headphones off and walking towards Roman.

“Hey,” Virgil said, blushing as Roman pecked his cheek with a smile.

“I’m just cleaning up.” Roman pulled a stool out for Virgil before heading back around the counter to put some dishes away. “Anywhere special you want to go?”

Virgil shrugged, leaning over the counter. “Nothing special. We can stay here if you want — I just want an escape, really.”

“May I ask from what?”

“Everything,” Virgil mumbled. Roman smiled smugly at him, pulling two mugs off the shelf and boiling some water.

“Alright, Grump-elstiltskin,” Roman said, placing a tea bag in one cup and preparing some coffee on the side. “We can talk about your angst over some warm beverages, yeah?”

“That’d be nice,” Virgil said quietly, smiling softly at Roman when he looked his way.

A few minutes later, Roman slid a black mug towards Virgil across the counter.

“One  _Black Cauldron_  for  _mi pequeño rayo_.” He flashed a dazzling grin as he carried his mug of tea to the counter. Virgil rolled his eyes as he took a sip. Roman leaned across the surface from Virgil.

“So, first thing’s first.” Roman took a sip from his tea, letting out a long sigh; “Do you how do?”

Virgil scoffed, “Great,  _not_.”

Roman frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

“Well, what’s going on?” Roman asked, exasperated.

“Nothin’ good.”

“ _Virgil_.” He sighed, sipping his coffee.

“Sorry,” Virgil mumbled. “It’s just…I’m not really up for talking about me yet. I…I just need a distraction.”

“That’s fine.” Roman smiled reassuringly at Virgil. “We can do something even better then!”

“And what’s that?”

“Talk about  _meeeee!_ ” Roman twirled around regally, nearly spilling his tea on his apron. Virgil stifled a laugh behind his own mug.

“We can do that,” he chuckled quietly. “How’s work been?”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Starting on a sour note, are we? Work is like a whole other can of worms.”

“Can relate,” Virgil hummed. “Uni’s exhausting. I’m always tempted to duck out of lectures to take 3 pm naps.”

“Right?” Roman leaned closer towards Virgil, his chin in his hand. “I just…don’t want to deal with half the things I need to do, you know?”

“That makes two of us,” Virgil murmured with a small smile. He paused, shly adding, “Any specific… _thing_  you don’t want to deal with?”

“Where do I begin,” Roman huffed. “For starters, I seriously need to replace that blender. And I haven’t even  _touched_  the plan I had for that charity event I’m hosting here in a few weeks…”

“Sounds fun,” Virgil deadpanned.

“A blast, truly.” Roman massaged the bridge of his nose. “And then there’s Logan…”

“Logan?” Virgil echoed, perking up in interest. “What’s up with Logan?”

Roman paused. “You know how I said there are things I just don’t want to deal with right now?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, Logan’s case is more of a ‘thing I wanted to help with but don’t know how’,” Roman explained. “I don’t know if I should be sharing this, but..but he broke down in his shop last night.”

“Broke down?” Virgil echoed, suddenly nervous. Roman nodded, drinking his tea sullenly.

“He broke a lot of stuff, the works. I took him home and…” Roman trailed off before closing his eyes, resting his elbow against the counter and pressing the side of his hand against his forehead. “God, Virgil, it was pretty bad. He’s just super…down in the dumps about stuff.”

Roman tapped against the surface of his cup, suddenly filled with a feeling of  _helplessness_.

~~_Aren’t you the prince?  
**Be a hero.**_ ~~

“I’m just really worried about him,” Roman finally said. ”He’s never usually like this, and…and I don’t know what to do.”

“I know how you feel,” Virgil grumbled, looking down at the counter.

Roman frowned, looking at Virgil’s sullen expression. He sighed, holding Virgil’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

“What is troubling you, mi amor?” he said smoothly.

“It’s…Patton,” he said hesitantly. “He just seems really…off. Like he’s not sad or anything, but he is just uncharacteristically…odd.”

“I see…” Roman said, leaning over the counter in thought.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Roman smiled sheepishly. “Not really.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, drinking more of his coffee. Roman raised his hands in front of him defensively.

“I-I just don’t get it, that’s all! Like, strange? Strange how?” Roman asked.

“I could think of a few things,” Virgil mumbled. Upon seeing Roman frown, he sighed loudly.

“I’m just a bit freaked out,” Virgil confessed, “and admittedly, terrified out of my mind.”

“I can see that, mi amor,” Roman hummed quietly, leaning over the counter to brush the hair out of Virgil’s eyes.

“I-It’s just that I’m worried for him, Roman,” Virgil continued. “I…I feel like he’s going to get himself hurt. And I feel like I’m just letting that happen.”

“Virgil, whatever obstacles Patton faces are not a fault of yours,” Roman reassured him. “You care about him and love him. That is…”

Roman trailed off, his mind falling back to  _Logan_. He smiled softly to himself.

“That’s more than enough,” he finished.

“I just wish things could be okay,” Virgil whispered, staring at his coffee.

“Hey,” he said softly, lifting Virgil’s chin gently, “things are going to be alright. And I am going to be here for you no matter what, I promise. There’s never going to be a day where I let you face anything alone.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you, Roman,” Virgil said after a bit of silence. “I…I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Virgil.” Roman grinned. “Forever and always.”

Virgil chuckled quietly, almost amused. He took a sip of his coffee and snuck a glance at Roman.

“Um, Roman?” he asked hesitantly, breaking the silence. “Can…can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, mi amor!” Roman exclaimed. “Anything for you!”

Virgil nodded, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact.

“Do…do you remember when that drunk guy came into the café a few weeks back?” Roman’s smile fell. “I feel like you were somewhat…worried about how much I heard, so I never really brought it up, but…he said something that kind of concerned me. Something about you enjoying some kind of ‘pity party.’ Do you—”

“Ah, mi amor,” Roman shakily laughed, cutting Virgil off into a stunned silence. He sipped more of his tea. “That foolish half-wit was barely sober, not to mention his horrific taste in clothing. Drunks, fashion-abominations; I don’t trust either of those kind of fools.”

“I know, and I…respect that. I think.” Virgil shrugged. He looked up at Roman, his nervous laughter suddenly vanishing. “Maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions, but…but I’m sort of  worried about you too, Roman.”

“Worried?” Roman felt as if his voice sounded  ~~scared~~   _tired_. “Virgil, why on Earth would you worry about me?”

“I just notice things, I guess,” Virgil said quietly; almost  _nervously_ , Roman noted. “I…I notice how you sometimes scratch at your left arm when things get a bit too much. I notice how you pull the cuffs of your sleeves down so they cover your hands. _I notice how your shirts are always long-sleeved.”_

Roman froze, and when he looked down,  
his hand was tightening around his left arm.

 ~~Caught.~~  
Trapped.  
**Some hero, huh?**

Virgil sighed, grabbing his hand softly, rubbing his thumb over Roman’s knuckles reassuringly.

“I’m not good with this kind of stuff,” he continued, “but…but I just want you to know that I’m always here for you too. I don’t need to know everything in your life, and you’re not obligated to tell me anything. It’s just…I’m not going to let you go face anything alone either. Okay?”

Roman paused, and when he opened his mouth to say something— _anything_ —the two heard bells echoing through the empty café.

The two turned to face the door,  
and Virgil’s hand immediately tensed in Roman’s grasp.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it!” A well-dressed woman giggled as she stumbled in. Roman glanced at Virgil, who was frozen stiff. Roman frowned.  
  
“Um…we’re closed? Can I help you?” he asked, a bit confused.

“Oh, can’t you find pity for a silly girl? I just want some small things to tide me and my darling over until we can get home.” She leaned forward, and Roman’s nose wrinkled as he smelled the overwhelming stench of alcohol.

The woman paused, looking past Roman towards Virgil. She broke into a bright smile.

“Oh  _Virgil!_ ” she slurred. “I didn’t know that you worked  _here_.”

Roman looked at Virgil, almost confused.

“Do you know…her…?” he mouthed quietly. Virgil narrowed his eyes at her.

“ _Heather_.” he hissed.

A beat of silence. Roman’s eyes widened, looking at the woman once more; this was  _the_  Heather?

“Virgil, sweetie,” Heather slurred, leaning over the counter, “be useful for once and get me some coffee, will you?”

Roman immediately faced Virgil, noticing his expression darken.

“Do you mind getting another bag of coffee beans?” he asked quickly, squeezing Virgil’s hand before he could say anything else. “I think you can find some in the back.”

Virgil hesitated, glaring at Heather one last time. He finally nodded wordlessly, disappearing in the back room, leaving Roman alone with Heather.  
  
Roman straightened up, taking a deep breath before flashing his best smile.

“Ah, Virgil’s a funny boy, isn’t he?” Heather’s laugh rang loudly in his ears. “Always so sensitive! Gosh, I don’t know how you do it!”

“Do what?” Roman asked, almost nervously.

“Handle him, silly!” Roman felt chills run down his spine. “Honestly, if Patton didn’t insist that ‘family’ was a packaged deal, I think we would have moved away by now. He’s just  _so_  clingy, don’t you think? So unbecoming for a young man. Almost  _unbearable_.”

Roman felt sick — what was going on?

He went through the motions of making Heather some coffee without saying a word, listening to her mindlessly ramble on. His hands shook at every word she said, trying to keep his emotions in check.

When he finally finished, he handed the coffee to Heather, who immediately spat it out once she took a sip. Roman jumped, slightly startled at the action.

“Ugh, you call  _this_  a coffee? Is everyone that associates with them just  _useless?_ ” Roman watched as Heather rolled her eyes, almost astonished. “Mama was right. Men are useless,  _dumb_  animals.”

Roman found himself speechless at her outburst. Before he could say anything else, the front door opened to reveal a man with brown hair at the entrance. Roman’s eyes widened as he watched Heather turn around. She slammed the coffee on the counter before storming towards the man.

“Ugh,  _Mark!_ ” Roman winced at the volume of her voice. “I thought I told you to stay in the fucking car! Jesus, do  _any_  of you listen to me?”

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Heather drunkenly grabbed his arm in one swift motion before he could say anything.

“Fuck, this place is shit,” she grumbled, leaning heavily against him. “Let’s go. You can make me a coffee at your place. Better than the swill here.”

Roman stood there, stunned, watching as the two left. His usual ire at some commoner insulting his shop didn’t rise as he was still trying to process what happened. He barely felt Virgil race past him.  
  
“That fucking  _bitch!_ ” Virgil cried out as he glared at the car outside. _“I knew it!”_

“What?” Roman croaked out, still dazed. Virgil glared at Roman.

“That’s  _Heather_ , Roman! The heartless bitch who’s dating my brother!” Suddenly, it all clicked in Roman’s head.

“Holy shit,” Roman murmured, running his hand through his hair. “ _Holy shit_. Are you serious?”

“Of course I am!” Virgil exclaimed, frustrated. Roman shook his head in disbelief.

“ _That’s_  the love of Patton’s life?! But Patton…he’s so…so  _sweet!”_

Virgil growled. “She’s not good for him. I knew that from the  _fucking_  start.”

“Virgil…” Roman trailed off, going to grab Virgil’s arm gently to calm him down. Virgil pulled back immediately.

“I am going to  _fucking_  claw that smug smile off her face when I see her again, I swear.”

“Virgil, please relax, we—”

“ _Relax?!_ ” Virgil screamed. Roman flinched, slowly reeling his hand back. “How can I relax when…when she’s…he’s…”

“Under her spell,” Roman finished. Virgil huffed.

“God, I’m wasting time here.” Virgil pushed open the door angrily. Roman’s eyes widened, and he grabbed Virgil’s arm before he could storm out.

“Virgil, wait,” he said, gently pulling him back inside. “You shouldn’t chase after her. She’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it?!” Virgil screeched. “She’s fucking with my brother, Roman! I gotta kick her ass into next year! I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Roman asked, exasperated. However, all of his frustration disappeared when he saw Virgil’s face.

“I can’t…let Pat down.”

Silence. Roman took a deep breath, holding Virgil’s hand.

“It’s not letting Pat down,” he said reassuringly, “it’s surviving to fight another day. Strength in numbers and all of that. Would she not cry wolf if you hurt her?

Virgil glared at Roman and sighed, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Fuck. I hate that you’re right.”

Roman smiled sympathetically.

“We just need to think logically about this. A planned attack…” Roman paused, his eyes suddenly widening.

_Logan._

“Oh my…” He trailed off, glancing at Logan’s shop. The lights were still on. His mind fell back to the night before.

_“Love is illogical, messy, and **awful** , Roman.”_

“What’s going on?” Virgil asked. Roman shook his head, his eyes still fixated at Logan’s shop.

“I…I need to talk to Logan,” he murmured. “He…he knows.”

“He knows?” Virgil echoed. “Knows wha—” Virgil’s eyes widened, and his scowl returned.

“He  _knows?!_ ”

“I mean, I think—” Virgil didn’t wait for Roman to finish. With a dark clouded look, Virgil stormed out of the café and towards Logan’s shop.

“Wait! Virgil! Not what I meant!” Roman gave chase after Virgil. Him and his big mouth…

_This wouldn’t end well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	15. Scabiosas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan glared at the “closed” sign as if it was mocking him.
> 
> 10 am: so much for being practically, perfectly punctual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- here we are! another chapter at last! once again, the specialist of thanks to @@infinitesimalsolemnvow (SolemnVow on here, but i guess you know that already now, heh ;D), my partner-in-crime; for not only helping me with the chapter, but for calling me and telling me hilarious anecdotes, for keeping me in check, and for tethering me to reality when i got too stressed, heh — i love you more than anything, friendo <33
> 
> read and enjoy and stuff ^-^

_“scabiosas = unfortunate attachment, i have lost all.”_ **  
**

~*~

Logan glared at the “closed” sign as if it was mocking him.

10 am: so much for being practically, perfectly punctual.

As he unlocked the door and walked inside, he couldn’t help but shiver at the odd feeling of cold — a feeling of déjà vu, almost.

 _‘I should have waited for Roman to give me a ride instead of walking all the way here,’_  Logan thought bitterly.  _‘Did I not learn my lesson from last night?’_

Ah, Roman. While he was beyond thankful for his friend’s assistance the night before, he knew that staying with him would mean that he was  _weak_  — that whatever he was going through, he couldn’t go through it alone.

 _‘Falsehood,’_  he remembered thinking as he slipped out of Roman’s apartment that morning. After all, what he was going through was completely  _illogical_ , therefore could be deemed as unimportant.  _Non-existent_. All of these feelings he harboured just made him, if anything, more  _pathetic_  than he already was.

And that thought made him  _sick_.

As he walked through the shop, he caught a sight of himself in the window. He plastered a small smile on his face, letting himself stare at his reflection a little longer.

On the outside, he looked put together. In his reflection, he only saw a man in a blue tie who happened to own a flower shop and was running only a bit late. He saw a man who was going to open up regardless of the potential profits he lost and instead, play happy music in his shop  _because he was normal._

Ah,  _normal_ ; the thought made him feel a bit more at ease.

But when he caught a glimpse of a messy backroom barely visible in the window through his reflection, he saw the cracks in his foundation. He saw how red his eyes were behind his lenses. He saw everything and nothing at war through his forced  ~~ _normal_~~  smile.

 _‘Don’t you see, Logan? This is what feelings get you. This is what love does.’_ He frowned at himself, straightening up and adjusting his tie.  _‘Be a damn professional, for once in your life. This is hardly dignified.’_

And so he began to clean up; starting with the singed white rose on the floor. He didn’t let himself stare at it for any longer, crushing the flower in his hand after a few seconds as he did his best to resist the urge to vomit.

The flower reminded him too much of  _her_  and what she said,  
and the echo of her voice rang too loudly in his ears.

_Was she right?_

Logan wanted what was best for Patton, didn’t he? And he knew that she clearly wasn’t the best. But thinking as one-sided as he did just made him  _selfish_ ; he knew Heather wasn’t the one for Patton, but was he alright with the knowledge that he might not be either?

Logan felt the tears start to form, but he was done crying. He was done with feeling. The idea of love now  _sickened_  him; wanting it, needing it, deserving it…those were all pointless endeavours.

He had been happy without love before. He did not need love now.

Logan threw what remained of the crushed rose in the trash. He decided to avoid the back room for now, focusing only on the small messes in the front.

 _This is how it should be._  He felt himself get lost in his work, kneeling over to pick up stray pieces of paper that littered around the entrance to the back. Bits of his scratchy writing was barely decipherable on the scraps of paper, but he could still make out a few words.

 _Gol…e…lil…_  
Ask…en?  
**For Patt…xx—**

Logan harshly stuffed the papers into the bin next to him; another useless endeavour.

He ignored all of his feelings as he cleaned, the repetitive motions allowing him to slowly feel the pieces of himself float back together.

 ~~He felt hollow.~~  He felt  _fixed_. He was stronger without those messy feelings.

Hours passed in silence. Logan wasn’t sure how long he had been on his feet—he was fixing every corner of his shop now; adjusting flowers and gardening tools, working his way to the back room—but he felt  _productive_. Emotionless. The silence nearly put a smile on his face; he felt  _calm_. At ease.  
  
~~A _lie_.~~

The peace was shattered by the blaring noise of his text tone. He jumped, startled by the sudden pull back to reality.

When he managed to get a hold of himself, he opened his phone to see a rather lengthy text. His eyes widened.

_‘Dear son.’_

~~His heart dropped.~~

_‘I hope you are doing well, I sincerely do. Granted, I would not be aware if you were, as you have failed to maintain proper communication with your father and I for quite some time.’_

~~It’s been three,  
maybe  _four_  years.~~

_‘If you are still angered by what happened, then I have nothing to say other than suggesting that you move on from your naive fairytale and adapt a newer, less_ fanciful _mindset.’_

The words felt as if they were clawing at him through the screen.

_because when logan was twelve,  
his parents essentially told him that rainbows   
were nothing but a trick of the light._

~~_that really,  
they have no reason to be there at all._ ~~

_‘Still, I have decided to forgive you. After all, that is what loving mothers are to do with their family, no?  
_

_As you are quite aware, my birthday was yesterday. I will pardon the absence of your greeting and instead invite you to make up for it at my birthday dinner happening in three days. The dinner will take place at “Mistletoe Lodge” near Grandma’s old house up north — I’m sure you remember it, as it was one of your favourite restaurants growing up.’_

_‘I expect that you will be there by 6 pm in your best suit — navy, preferably. If you are in need of a ride, I can pay a cab for you to bring you here. If any conflicts arise, please tell me in advance. Otherwise, there should be no reason for you not to attend._

_I trust that you have matured now, Logan, as your recent behaviour is hardly dignified. Your father and I expect nothing of you but to act civil. Remember who held a more prominent sway on the outcome of your life. Remember who brought you here. Where you are now will not be where you remain forever — your father and I are willing to give you a second chance, Logan, dearest. It is your choice to accept it._

_I will see you at dinner._

_Love,  
Mother. xx’_

Logan’s heart sank as his feelings came back full force.

 _‘No reason,’_ Logan read again. He thought bitterly,  _‘More like no escape.’_

The thought send a surge of hopelessness shoot through him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He was an adult. Time had passed and, after all, she was right; Mistletoe Lodge was his favourite restaurant as a child.

~~_“mistletoe; used to signify a meeting place where no violence could take place.”_ ~~

The food was adequate, he remembered.  
~~He wondered if anything had changed.~~

Logan’s grasp tightened around the phone, a sudden feeling of anger running through him. Why was he spending so much time deliberating on such an insignificant thing?  _He wasn’t going_. He didn’t care about her birthday. He didn’t care about  _her_.

Logan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he looked at the texts once more. How  _could_  she? After years of nothing but resentment towards his parents— _towards_   _her_ —she was able to make him feel  _something_  through  _one text._

It infuriated him;  
was he really that  _broken?_

His breathing grew labored, and he found himself gripping onto the edge of the counter as if it were his lifeboat.

 _‘No,’_  he thought sternly,  _‘I am an adult. I am in control. She has no sway over me.’_

 ~~~~ _Lies,_  
Lies,  
Lies,  
Li—

Logan felt his mind begin to race, and his thoughts surrounded him like a hurricane. He felt something rise within him, and he hugged his chest, his phone still tightly grasped in his hand.

He was going to cry.  
Or scream.  
_Or both._

Logan bit his lip to keep him from doing anything he would regret. He could be somewhere else if it wasn’t for his arrogance. He could be in the arms of someone who  _did_  care.

He felt his anger deflate into bitterness. Then again, why would anyone care? He was full of himself,  _hardly dignified_ ; completely and utterly  _illogical_.

~~Was that not what made him _human?_~~

Logan sighed; if Roman was here, he’d be enveloped in  _warmth_.  
~~If he wasn’t so weak, he wouldn’t need _anyone_.~~

Logan faced the front door, staring at the “open” sign that was facing him. For a split second, he wondered if opening up was the right decision — it would certainly distract him, he knew that.

But he also knew that Patton would be visiting like he always does, and he didn’t have the energy for confrontation just yet. Besides, he felt as if he couldn’t satisfy anyone at the moment, so trying to please customers seemed like a pointless endeavour.  

Instead, he allowed the urge to clean to return with full force. He stared at the phone in his hands for a little longer, re-reading the text.

 ~~when logan was a child,~~  
and throughout all his life,  
his mother thought he was  **pathe—**

He slammed the phone face down on the counter, putting it on silent and ignoring the text completely. After all, he was certain that whatever he wrote in reply would just reinforce his stupidity even more.

Logan sighed, and turned towards the back room.

He took a deep breath in before grabbing a bucket, disappearing into the back to clean up his mess.

* * *

Logan heard the door slam open, and he sat up abruptly, shocked out of his daze and forcibly pulled from his escape.

“I am going to  ** _FUCKING_**  kill him, I swear to G—”

“Virgil! Virgil, just slow down, I—”

Logan’s eyes widened, the sponge falling out of his hands as he instinctively pressed his other hand onto the ground to push himself up. He immediately reeled back, hissing in pain at the sharp cut of a stray shard from a broken flower pot. His eyes squeezed shut, listening to the once loud voices in his shop fade away.

Logan’s mind was reeling, slowly returning back to reality.

 _What was going on?_  He readjusted himself to his surroundings. He frowned, trying to ignore the blood trailing down the palm of his hand. Who else would be able to open his door—  _oh_.

“It smells like a chemical factory in here or something,” he heard Roman say, and Logan bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming;  _they can’t be here._ Not when he’s like  _this_.

Logan remained on the ground, almost as if his knees were tethered to the ground.

“I hear rustling from the back,” he heard Virgil grumble. Logan could almost see the storm clouds building from the anger evident in his voice.

When he saw two blurry figures at the door, his head immediately fell.

He took a deep breath in—

 _One._  
Two.  
Three.  
Four.

—and pushed himself off the ground. When he looked up, he saw the horrified expression on Roman’s face and Virgil, whose expression was unreadable behind the shadow casted by his hoodie.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“Salutations,” Logan said, and the three of them watched as a drop of blood fell onto the ground. Virgil’s fist tightened, but Roman quickly diffused any form of violence, instead rushing  towards Logan’s side. He grabbed his wrist.

“By great Odin’s eyepatch,” he murmured, examining the cut. Logan winced as Roman turned to face Virgil, hand still around Logan’s wrist. “Virgil, get the first aid-kit; it’s behind the hanging pot of petunias on the wall.”

“But—”

“Come  _on_ , Jason Toddler,” Roman said, rolling his eyes. Logan looked at Roman and could feel a glimpse of regret. Virgil immediately turned away when Logan’s eyes fell on him, huffing and turning on his heel to the shop.

Roman looked at the blood on Logan’s hand, almost sympathetically. Logan said nothing because he didn’t trust himself not to break down again. Right now, the only thing tethering him to reality was Roman’s careful touch and the sharp sting of the wound on his hand. He really didn’t need to feel anything else. He tried to push his emotional turmoil down as those feelings threatened to expel from his mouth like bile.

Roman’s heart broke at Logan’s silence. He desperately wanted to fix this, but he just didn’t know how. He didn’t know where to start, and he didn’t know what to say.

He sighed.  _Logan_  would know. That’s all he knew. After all, Logan was his only constant. He always could depend on Logan to know, well, everything.

But here, Logan was with all of the problems,  
and Roman couldn’t save him.

Couldn’t return the favor.  
~~Couldn’t be the hero.~~

He broke out of his own pity-party as Virgil came back with the first aid kit. Before he could thank him, Virgil shoved it roughly into Roman’s arms. Despite Virgil’s bitterness, Roman gratefully took the distraction;  _this_  was something he could do.

As Roman wordlessly tended to Logan’s hand, Virgil stood off to the side in silence, his arms folded. He could feel the fight in him slowly ebbing away, and that infuriated him.

 _He shouldn’t feel pity for him!_  Virgil’s mind was racing, and he felt his fingers claw into his arms. After all, Logan helped hurt Patton, didn’t he?

He felt a sliver of doubt creep through. Maybe…Maybe he was wrong? He hoped to hell that he was wrong. Or rather, he hoped that he would get answers. He needed  _answers_ , and he wouldn’t stop until he got them.

Logan winced ever-so slightly as Roman patched him up. Was he really so pathetic that he needed help with a simple cut? Although, he had to admit…it was nice, being taken care of for once.

He couldn’t enjoy that happy feeling for long because as soon as Roman finished, he stepped away aside; allowing Virgil to storm towards him. Virgil looked  _demanding_ , angry; almost towering above him. Logan quaked in his shoes, feeling like an errant plastic bag that was caught in his own storm. He couldn’t help but shrink away from Virgil’s dark gaze.

“I want to know one thing and one thing only,” Virgil growled, taking a step closer towards him. Logan felt his back hit the wall.

“Virgil, plea—” Roman raised his hand and stepped forward in protest.

 _“Shut it, Roman!”_  Virgil whipped his head around and snapped. “This isn’t about you, okay?!”

Silence. Roman promptly shut his mouth, and Virgil returned his attention to Logan.

“One thing, Logan,” Virgil gritted out. “Did you know?”

“K-Know?”

“Did you know about  _Heather?_ ” Logan froze upon hearing the name. “Did you know that she is hurting my brother?”

Logan paused “I-I…I—”

 _“Tell me,”_  Virgil hissed, and Roman took a cautious step towards him.

Logan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“I…I do know about Heather,” he admitted quietly. “But Virgil, I onl—”

Before Logan could finish, Virgil grabbed the collar of Logan’s polo, nearly lifting him up off the ground.

“You  _fucking_  knew?!” Virgil roared, startling Logan. Roman immediately moved towards him, ready to spring into action.

“Woah! Hey! Virgil, what are you do—”

“How  _could_  you?!” Virgil continued. “That’s my  _brother_  — and you let him stay with that…that  _monster?!_ ”

“Virgil, please—“ One glare from Virgil shut Roman up once more.

“My intentions were not aimed to cause Patton any harm,” Logan tried to explain as he scrambled for some kind of purchase.

“You didn’t want to cause harm _?!_ ” Virgil echoed angrily. “Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?!”

He shook his head, almost in disbelief.

“You know…Patton told me that you cared about him so  _damn_  much.” Logan watched as small tears began to build up in Virgil’s eyes. His voice was scratchy, as if the words could barely escape. “He said that you were one of the most important people in his life.”

“Virgil…” Logan said slowly. Virgil slammed Logan’s head against the wall with a growl, and Logan winced at the sudden jolt.

“I thought you could change his mind,” Virgil said, voice trembling. “I thought you could bring him back.”

When Logan said nothing, Virgil’s expression darkened.

“But it turns out that you just want to hurt him too. Is that what it is?!” His voice began to get louder and louder, almost ringing in Logan’s ears. “Well you know what, you’ve hurt him enough. Now it’s my turn.”

Before Virgil could land a punch on Logan, Roman quickly stepped between the two, pushing Virgil aside and supporting Logan as he was dropped.

“Virgil, your intentions are of good heart, but this doesn’t need to be a fight,” Roman said sternly. Virgil paused and crossed his arms. Logan caught his breath.

“It’s a pointless endeavour after all,” Logan said darkly, slowly brushing himself off. Roman looked at him incredulously, but Virgil glared at him before Roman could say anything.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“That’s not to say it makes me feel better either,” Logan snapped. Virgil fell silent as Logan sighed. “It’s just that there’s nothing that I can do. The damage has been done, and any further attempts of intervening could possibly hurt Patton.”

“I don’t see why you get a say on what happens,” Virgil growled. “You’re not getting any closer to Patton. Not anymore.”

“Virgil, I only knew about Heather since yesterday,” Logan protested. Roman and Virgil exchanged looks. “I only withheld that information because…”

“Because?” Virgil asked impatiently. Logan looked down, almost guiltily.

“She threatened me,” Logan admitted.

Virgil’s eyes widened, and Roman’s jaw dropped. “What. The.  _Fuck_.”

“Virgil, language,” Roman said sternly. Virgil glared at him.

“Really, Princey?! You’re calling me out for language  _now?!”_

“You know what, that doesn’t matter.” Roman turned to face Logan. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Logan took in a shuddering breath.

“I caught her kissing a blond man outside of my shop yesterday,” Logan explained slowly. “It was in the morning, and she was being…intimate with this man before going into my shop in order to purchase a bouquet for Patton.”

“That  _bitch_ ,” Virgil hissed. Roman placed a hand on Virgil and squeezed his shoulder softly.

“When I did confront her,” Logan continued, “she essentially told me that if I told anyone, she would not hesitate to not only end me and my business, but also hurt Patton.”

“And then?” Virgil asked.

“And that was it,” Logan finished. “She left, and I…had a bit of breakdown, so to speak.”

“Logan…” Roman trailed off, going over to hold Logan’s arm reassuringly. Logan pulled away.

“It’s over now,” Logan said firmly. “There’s nothing else I can do.”

“Nothing else you can do?” Virgil echoed. “Logan, you have to tell him!”

“Tell him?” Logan asked, exasperated.

“Of course!” Roman swung an arm around Logan’s shoulders, extending his hand forward as if painting a picture with his hand. “Logan, this could be your  _moment!_ Swoop into action! A valiant display of your undying affection!” He gasped.  _“Be the Prince Charming to his Snow White.”_

“Dude,” Virgil growled darkly, “not the time.”

Roman smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Logan sighed.

“Roman, I am not going to intervene in any way and that is  _final_ ,” Logan said, “I have… _meddled_  in his relationship for too long, and have caused severe amounts of damage. I fear I would cause more destruction if I involve myself in this situation any more than I have to. He is in  _love_  with her — who am I to get in the way of that?”

“If you don’t get in the way of that now, you might be hurting him even more,” Virgil snapped. When no one said a word, Virgil sighed.

“Do you know how hard it is to see Patton get hurt in this way?” he asked quietly. “To see him tear himself apart, constantly — _every single day,_  for a single person?”

“Virgil—” Roman tried to say.

“No!” Virgil snapped, glaring at Roman. He ran his hand through his hair, upset. “Whenever I see him smiling with…with  _her_ , I see a mirror of what  _I_  used to have.”

Silence. Virgil grabbed his arm, holding himself tightly.

“It hurt me in ways I can’t even begin to describe, what I had,” he said, his voice merely a whisper. “What I had before…it still hurts me today. And there’s no way I’m letting Patton go through that pain too, especially now that I have the power to stop it from ever happening again.”

He looked at Logan, who was looking at the ground, almost guilty.

“Logan, I know you care about Patton. I really do. And I know you mean well, but I won’t let you stand in the way of stopping this.”

“Virgil is right, Logan,” Roman said softly. “You have to tell Patton. For him — for  _your_  future with him!”

“Future?!” Logan asked, bridging on frustration.

“Yes!” Roman practically shrieked. “Logan, this is your  _chance_ —”

“I don’t care that this is my ‘ _chance_ ’!” Logan hissed. Roman immediately fell silent. “I don’t care if this should be something I should be  _happy_  about because I am not going to let my stupid,  _fucking_ feelings be what ultimately ruins Patton’s first experience of love—”  
  
“It’s his  _only_  experience of love, Logan!” Virgil screamed. “And I swear to God, if you call what he has with that  _monster_  ‘love’ again, I am going to  _fucking lose it!”_  
  
Virgil was panting now, nearly out of breath. Tears—was it frustration? Exhaustion?—were threatening to fall. The room was filled with a dreadful  _silence_.  
  
“I can’t let you passively hurt Patton,” Virgil said, his voice merely above a whisper. “You out of all people should know that this isn’t what Patton deserves. As much as I don’t like it, he’d be more willing hearing this from you. But if you aren’t going to step up,  _I will._ ”

Before Logan could say anything else, the door to his shop swung open. The three of them froze, exchanging looks.

Logan walked ahead of Roman and Virgil out of the back room before stopping at the entrance.

“Patton?” Logan managed to say, slowly stepping towards Patton into the shop. Roman and Virgil appeared behind him, looking at each other nervously.

“Roman? Virgil?” Patton flashed them all a bright smile. “Aw, shucks, I didn’t know we were all having a party over here! Did I interrupt something?”

“N-No,” Logan stammered, adjusting his tie, “of course not. I…I was just discussing the details of an upcoming charity event at Roman’s café.”

“Oh, coolio!” Patton chirped, facing Logan. “Well, I’m not here to interrupt anything here! I just wanted to ask you about that thing I texted you about earlier.”

“Thing?” Logan echoed.

“Yeah, the flower stuff!” Patton said cheerily. “I texted it about you in the morning. I meant to come over during my break like I usually do, but I got super busy, so I told you I was going to drop by for some late-night flower advice. ”

 _His phone._  Logan mentally sighed; he turned it off after his mother texted, and therefore didn’t see the text.  _ ~~Stupid, stupid.~~_

“Are you okay with helping me out for a bit?” Patton continued. “I know you’re closed and stuff, but your door was still unlocked and I noticed the light on in the back, so I figured you’re available. It shouldn’t be too long, I’m sure. After all, you are the flower whiz!”

Logan hesitated. He could feel Roman and Virgil’s stares behind his back and he took a deep breath.

_~~when they hurt him, over and over again,  
and when he left them with nowhere to go;~~ _

~~_when **she**  fabricated lie after lie after lie,  
**and when the thoughts came pouring in**_~~   
**_(“pathetic, stupid,_ hardly dignified _”):_**

_~~all he ever wanted  
was the truth.~~ _

“Roman. Virgil,” Logan said calmly, slowly facing them. “Do you mind if we call it a night? We can continue our discussion tomorrow — for now, there’s a pressing matter I must deal with in regards to Patton and I.”

“Sure,” Virgil said quietly, “no problem, dude.”

His eyes were filled with gratitude, Logan was sure of it. He almost sighed in relief. It was a start, and that’s all he needed. But Virgil’s glare still felt as if he didn’t trust him; he knew what he had to do in order to change that.

Roman’s expression, on the other hand, was almost unreadable — Logan wasn’t too sure what Roman wanted him to do. But Roman said, only nodding at him, before leading Virgil out. Logan watched as Patton waved at them as they left, biting back the urge to scream at them to come back.

When the doors slammed shut, Logan took a deep breath; they were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	16. Mallows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, cheating, v teeny tiny reference of nsfw - heavy implications though.
> 
> a/n- helllooooo, is anyone still hereeee? lol hello i know it’s been a while, but i am finally here with a new chapter! and what a chapter it is :’))
> 
> @infinitesimalsolemnvow (tumblr)/SolemnVow (ao3), you sweet sweet bean. being the best beta reader there is! thank you for reading it over, despite ur busy schedule, and helping me make this so much better than it already was :’) i love youuu <3
> 
> anyway! i hope you enjoy it! here’s some tissues *throws tissues at you, reader* you’ll need it :P

_“mallows = consumed by love”_

~*~

“Patton,” Logan said after a beat of silence. Patton’s smile only grew wider.

“That’s my name,” he chirped, cheerily pointing himself, “don’t wear it out!”

Logan shakily laughed; it sounded more strained than amused, he feared. Nonetheless, he ushered Patton closer to the counter.

“Um, how can I be of assistance, Patton?” he asked. He watched nervously as Patton leaned over the counter.

“I’m proposing to Heather  _tonight_ ,” he whispered conspiratorially.

 _‘Right.’_  Logan’s heart nearly stopped.  _‘The proposal.’_

“Tonight,” he reaffirmed quietly.

“Tonight!” Patton echoed back, smiling. He sighed happily, clasping his hands together. “Oh, it feels so good just  _saying_  it…”

Logan felt his heart pick up speed once more.

Patton was going to marry  _Heather_. A visceral visual of poor Patton chained to  _her_  flashed in his mind as the terror of the implications of his statement truly sunk in.

“I…” Logan cleared his throat. “I still do not understand why this is relevant to your desire for my flower…expertise.”

“Well, I need a bouquet, of course!” Patton’s hands flew up into the air as he circled the shop animatedly, as if drawing a picture in the air. “A bouquet that’ll make her wanna put our  _tulips_  together!”

Logan tried not to visibly grimace at the  ~~thought~~  pun. He cleared his throat instead, bracing himself. Now was as good a time as any to tell Patton the truth.

_~~To ruin his happiness.~~ _

“Patton, I think you must know tha—”

“And after I give her the bouquet,” Patton cut him off loudly, twirling his way back towards the front counter once more, “I’ll give her a speech! A speech on what each and every flower means! They’ll all have the most romantic-ist of meanings!”

“Romantic-ist is not a wor—”

“And afterwards!” Patton let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “Oh,  _afterwards_. What is afterwards, you ask? Well, the waiter will come over with the cake and— well, we all know what comes after that!”

“I do, Pa—”

 _“I do, indeed!”_  Patton exclaimed. Logan jumped back as Patton flung himself on the counter, his chin in his hand dreamily. “God, Logan, I don’t think I have ever been so  _excited!_ ”

Logan swallowed back his words.

“But, of course, it all starts with the bouquet.” Patton looked up at Logan with bright eyes. “And I know you’ll be able to help me out, won’t you? You are, after all, the flower expert!”

Logan wanted to  _scream_. Patton’s words were worlds away, yet they pounded in his minds with the same finality as nails in a coffin. His thoughts were racing, the walls felt as if they were closing in on him,  _and everything was just growing too tight._

He couldn’t do this. Not alone, at least—  _God_ , why did he ask Virgil and Roman to leave? He could feel regret and guilt bubble in his stomach.

_“I can’t let you hurt Patton.”_

Logan glanced back at Patton, who was idly playing with the display of seeds on the counter.

_Doesn’t he deserve the truth?_

Logan took a deep breath. He couldn’t do this. He would never admit it out loud, but he was beyond terrified. 

But he had to say  _something_.   
But once he tells Patton, he would be the one who shatters his happiness.   
But wouldn’t he be happier away from her? 

Someone has to be the bad guy and between Virgil and himself?   
_He deserved to be the villain._

Logan’s fist clenched tightly behind the counter as a million thoughts ran through his mind. All he had to say was _the truth_. Be helpful for once in his  _damn_  life and tell him everything.

But when Logan looked up,   
all he saw was Patton’s  _smile_.

“So?” Patton asked, bringing him back to reality. “What do you recommend?”

All he saw was his  _joy_.

Logan pushed up his glasses and straightened his back. 

All he saw was that Patton was  _happy._

He steeled himself as he opened his mouth and—

“I have a few possible selections in mind. If you could follow me…”  _ ~~You fucking coward.~~_

“Yeah! Of course!”

Logan circled around the counter, his heart sinking with every step. Patton trailed closely behind him as Logan walked along the walls of flowers.

“You should get her roses,” he said, almost quieter;  _softer_. “After all, roses are recognized as the universal symbol of love. A bouquet of twenty-four would be adequate; the association of the number twenty-four is a number of harmony, idealism, and companionship. There’s a desire for long-term security.” 

_Each word felt a weight,  
another chain added to his lengthy line of sins._

“Wowza,” Patton breathed out with an amazed smile. “I didn’t know you were a number expert too!”

“Numerology. A brief Google search is all that is necessary, really,” Logan stated matter-of-factly.

“Awesome,” Patton said with the biggest grin. “Anyway, for the roses; a certain colour in particular?”

Logan sighed, stopping in front of a selection of roses. All of them seemed to taunt him.

“Depends on the message, I suppose,” he said simply. “If…if it were me, I would start with peach-coloured roses. Symbolizing appreciation, sincerity; a sense of sealing the deal, per se.”

He snuck a glance at Patton, who was closely observing Logan with a child-like gleam in his eyes. He forced his stare back on the bundles of roses in front of him.

“You could mix them with pink roses.” He took one of the roses from the bundle in his hand. “A softer take on the romanticized connotation of red roses, pink roses symbolize grace, admiration and a sense of ‘perfect happiness’.”

“Perfect happiness?” Patton echoed. Logan nodded.  

“A certain kind of…idealism, I suppose,” he explained. “Almost like whenever I—  _you’re_  with…with  _her_ , you feel this sense of  _completeness_. As if she is where you have to be because  _she makes you happy._ ”

Logan picked up a peach-coloured rose between his fingers, almost as if observing it.

“It is a message that works well with the peach-coloured roses,” he continued, his eyes fixated on the rose’s petals. “The pink roses give you all the emotions necessary for your message—love, appreciation, a sense of security,  _happiness_ —while the peach-coloured roses solidify the idea that…that you can find all of that with  _her_.”

The last word came out with difficulty. He looked up at Patton and his damn smile.

“The two of them together,” he said slowly; “they symbolize a sincere desire of…of  _happiness_.”

 _Happy_.

“That’s…really lovely, Logan!” To his surprise, Patton laughed; shakier, almost. “I knew I could trust you to help me seal the deal, heh.”

The only thing Logan could do was nod.

“Hey, how about these?” Logan turned to Patton to see him holding a bundle of white roses.

His breath hitched.

“These can go well with the pink and peach, don’t you think?” Patton continued. “What do these ones mean?”

Logan could feel his mind screaming at him.

_‘For once in your life—_

_~~If he told him,  
Patton would  **hate**  him.~~ _

_—do something **right**.’_

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

If Patton hated him,   
_so be it._

_Be his villain because he deserves **better** ~~, you selfish bastard~~._

“You can’t…marry Heather,” Logan finally said quietly, dropping his hand down to his side.  _Like a bandaid, you have to just rip it off._

Silence.

The white rose fell from Patton’s fingers, the joy from his eyes falling with it.

“Excuse me,  _Logan?_ ” Patton’s smile seemed too bright now, blinding and harsh.

“I—” Logan’s mind raced, trying to find the best way to explain himself.

“Because for a minute there–” Patton laughed shakily–“it seemed an awful lot like…like you were trying to say that I shouldn’t—”

“Marry her.” Logan averted his eyes. “You…you shouldn’t marry Heather.” He looked back up at Patton.

Patton’s mouth closed slowly, and Logan watched as his jaw clenched tightly. Logan felt every part of him tense up as Patton gritted his teeth in strained smile.  

“Now…why is that, Logan, buddy?” Patton asked with a stilted breath. “I  _love_  Heather.”

“Yes,” Logan began, “but—”

“And–” Logan grimaced at Patton’s eerie grin– “And Heather  _loves me._ ”

Logan heart broke. He couldn’t help it; tears were forming in Patton’s eyes, and he could tell that he was desperately trying to keep up his smile.

He straightened his back and cleared his throat.

_Now isn’t the time for icky feelings, **fool**.   
_ _You’re cold and **heartless**. _

_It’s what he needs from you._

“It…It may seem like Heather loves you, Patton,” Logan said slowly. “However—”

“However?” Patton’s voice cracked. Logan closed his eyes and sighed.

“I have…evidence,” Logan finished. “Evidence that is contradictory to the reality that she has constructed for you.”

Patton remained still.

“She was…kissing another man,” Logan explained, choosing his words carefully. “It was outside of my shop yesterday. Afterwards, she came inside and knowing that I witnessed what she did, revealed to me that…that she does not have your best interests in mind.”

Logan snuck a glance at Patton and saw a single tear run down his cheek. He took a wary step towards Patton.

“Patton, I understand that this isn’t something you want to hear, but—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Patton choked out as he stepped away from him. Logan tried not to let the movement faze him.  _It needs to be done._

“Patton, you have to listen to me,” he said firmly, suddenly feeling as if the room grew tighter. “You deserve someone who loves you and cares for you; someone who only wants the best for you because  _they know that’s what you deserve._  Y-You…you deserve  _love_. Unconditional  _love_.”

He was shaking, he noticed. There was a slight tremble in his hands. Patton’s stare practically drilled through him, and he forced himself to swallow his tears and move to the front counter;  _away from Patton_. He closed, his eyes, knowing it will all be over as soon as Patton said that—

“Like the love that  _you_  could give me?”

Logan froze in his spot, his back still facing Patton. He didn’t dare make any movement.

“Is this the game plan, Logan?” Patton shook his head, turning away from Logan. “You’re going to tell me all of these…these  _lies?_ And for what? The chance to get with me?”

Patton let out a shaky, hysterical laugh.

“I…I guess she was right.”  _ ~~Logan’s heart broke.~~_  “How far does this go, Logan? Did you– did you rope  _Virgil_ into this too?”

“Patton, I—”

“I know he and Heather haven’t always seen eye to eye, but…” Patton glared up at Logan. “Are you really that  _cruel?_  Was all of that kindness…was it all a  _lie?_ ”

He sniffled and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Because you’re  _wrong_ ,” he snarled. “She  _loves_  me, Logan. She cares about me and she tried to warn me about  _you_.”

Logan’s throat tightened. He wanted to scream at Patton, to shake some sense into him.  _No! No, that’s not it at all!_

“Patton—”

“Save it. Save it for some other  _fool_ ,” Patton growled, moving towards the door.

“Patton, I’m—” Logan’s legs mechanically tried to follow after him.

“It’s fine!” Patton gritted out through a forced smile.  _ ~~Logan felt himself break.~~_  He began to back away from Logan, towards the door. “You know what, it’s all  _fine_.”

“Wait, Patton, just please try and understand; I would never hurt yo—” Logan grabbed Patton’s shoulders, trying to pull him back.

“Don’t  _touch_  me!” Patton screeched, tensing under Logan’s touch and ripping himself away from his grasp.

Logan pulled back slowly, letting his hand fall to his side. Tears were rolling down Patton’s cheeks as he tightly grasped the handle of the door.

“Thanks  _ever_  so  _much_  for your opinion,” Patton gritted out. “However, I don’t need you tell me what I need, got it? What I have with Heather is  _love_. And to be honest, I don’t see what  _you_  could know about that.”

Before Logan could say anything else, Patton swung the door open and stormed out, letting it slam loudly behind him.

The thud of the door seemed to break the spell over Logan and he sank to his knees, tears falling freely.

 _‘Failure, failure, failure.’_ The words taunted as he slammed his fists against the hard tile floor.

_‘Couldn’t even have the courage to run after him, huh?  
Wouldn’t have mattered because he utterly  **hates**  you.’_

Shaking.  
Logan was  _shaking_.

_‘What a **fool**. Couldn’t even properly convey that it was all in Patton’s best interests?_

_You’ve **failed**  him._

_Was it really? Isn’t he partially right? You’re **selfish**.  
That’s all you’ve ever been. A selfish  **disappointment**.’_

Logan fished his phone out of his pocket. Best to notify Roman and Virgil of his  _failure_.

With shaking fingers, he dialed Roman. He leaned up against one of his displays as he waited, wishing that he could toss his heart away.

* * *

The cool, evening air hit Patton as soon as he slammed the door.

He fumbled with his keys in his pocket as he stormed to his car, parked in front of his store. The tears didn’t stop rolling down his cheeks as he swung the door open.

When he got in the car, he slammed the door shut and grabbed the wheel with both hands, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against the wheel. He took a shaky breath in and as he exhaled, he lifted himself off and started the car.

As Patton began to drive away—he did everything he could to ignore the lights in Logan’s shop—he couldn’t help but think about what Logan had said.

 _“You can’t marry Heather.”_  Patton could feel the box with the ring pressed against his thigh in his pocket as he bounced his leg nervously on the brakes, slowly stopping at a red light. Logan’s words continued to echo in his head, and if Patton was once mad, it was soon washed away with a sense of confusion.

Heather  _loved_  him.

Patton bit his lip, hoping that it would stop him from crying even more.

The light flashed green, and Patton closed his eyes as he pressed his foot against the gas pedal and continued to drive. His mind wandered to a different night, and he thought about how—

_He loved her.  
He did since the very beginning._

_And when she allowed him to be her boyfriend?  
How could he not risk it all for her?_

_The routine was fairly straight-forward, and most of it came together after learning more about Heather and what was best for her: he would wake up two hours before Heather to prepare breakfast (eggs, sunny-side up— **never scrambled** —on top of toast, slightly toasted; with a side of blackberries and cranberries in a bowl, paired with almond milk) for the two of them. He would then wake Heather up—always  **tap** , never  **tell** —with the brightest of smiles, and then fix the bed as she went to the washroom to get ready. He would then wait at the table and when she came, listen to her talk about what she had to do at work. Throw in a joke. Didn’t matter — all he had to do was make her smile._

_When they both leave for work—Heather leaves first, Patton cleans up, and then Patton leaves—they exchange kisses at the front of their apartment before walking away in the opposite direction (most days, Heather will take Patton’s car to work, and he’ll pray that a taxi won’t speed past him again)._

_He calls at 9 am, when he gets there._  
He calls at 1 pm, after he eats.  
He calls at 7 pm, before he closes.  
He should be home by 8 pm

_Because that’s when he has to set up dinner, either pre-bought or cooked, so that by the time Heather comes home—9:15 pm, she’s a woman fixated on schedules—it’s kisses and smiles and **happy**._

_Patton prided himself that they were always **happy**._

_So when Patton made **the first mistake,**  
he was introduced to  ~~heartbreak~~   **desperation**._

_Because one night, Patton called at 7:12 pm, and got home at 7:48 pm. Traffic was heavy, his store felt too small and empty—when was he going to muster up the courage to move out of this cramped, dirty ~~but it was his **first**~~ place?—and overall,  **Patton was not happy**._

_And so Patton cooked, even if he had no energy;  
and he smiled at her, even if it wasn’t real;_

_and it all came crashing down when **it**  happens._

_“So,” he said, going over to sit down, “how was your day at work?”_

_As per usual, Heather rambled on about how she hated her job, how she hated ‘fucking David’, and how one of her co-workers was obnoxiously bright and always hummed_ The Beatles _songs too loudly._

_Patton leaned over to hold Heather’s hand—“It’s going to be alright,” he’ll say, “I’m here for you.”—but instead, he knocked over a glass and watched it **crash**  against the tiled floor._

_Silence._

_And that lasted a mere five seconds before it’s **screaming**  and  **yelling**  and  **crying**  and  **Patton’s trying to not break down.**_

_Heather screamed about how **she didn’t deserve this** ; not after “the days she had.”_

_Patton cried about how **he was sorry** ; oh God, he was so sorry. He hadn’t spent enough  **time**  paying attention._

_She stormed to her room and came out with a small backpack and headed towards the door. Patton didn’t know what to do anymore—_ **_he couldn’t lose her, not because of his stupidity_ ** _—and he suddenly found himself on his knees in front of her, his heart breaking at every inch her hand made towards the door handle._

_“Can’t lose you,_ **please** ,  
Heather,  **I’ll be better** ,  
_if you can just **give me some time**  —  
___**I’ll show you, I will!** ”

 _All there ever was,_  
~~all, he feared, there would always be~~  
_was_ **silence**.

 _When Heather kissed him,_  
it wasn’t soft,  
_but instead felt like_ **fire**.

 _And he was happy when he felt himself burning for her,_  
because he knew that inside,   
she must be burning for him too.

_Because she forgave him. In the very end of it all, she stayed and **that’s all that mattered.**_

_She wouldn’t let her down,  
**not again.**_

_He remembered this as he kissed her,  
and as her hand travelled to his waist._

_He remembered this as she lifted his tucked-in shirt out of his pants and moved his hand to the back of her dress._

_He remembered this when she asked,  
“But aren’t you sorry, Pat?”_

_He remembered this when she said,  
“Then give me a reason to forgive you.”_

_So when Patton gave in,  
Heather won._

_And when Heather won,  
Patton noticed that  **she was happy.**_

_And when she was happy,  
**she loved him.**_

—how much time he spent making this  _ **work**_.

The last thought stuck with him as Patton exited the elevator from the parking lot. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought about what was in his pocket, how she was going to react,  _what she would do…_

When he opened the door into their apartment, he pocketed the keys once he noticed the small crack of light coming from underneath Heather’s door.

For a brief moment,  
his mind remembered  _Logan_.

Patton dug his hand in his pocket and grasped it tightly.

_Caring, sweet,_  
_**“I would-never-hurt-you” Logan.** _

Patton pulled out the box with the ring and looked at it, lying there in the palm of his hand.

_Logan didn’t care about him.  
_ _**Heather did.** _

Patton closed his hand once more and his smile grew, slowly closing the door behind him and creeping up to the door to Heather’s room.

“Heather, honey,” he called out, “I have a surprise for yo—”

When he opened the door,  
_Heather’s eyes flung open, and her mouth snapped closed._

Her hands flew off the back of the man who was lying on top of her in bed,  
_as the ring box fell from Patton’s hand._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- i hope you enjoyed it! i promise you won’t have to wait that long for the next chapter ;)
> 
> comments, kudos, whatever — i love ‘em all! thank you for reading ^-^


	17. Yellow Tulips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: swear, self-deprecation, drinking
> 
> a/n- hello! a new chapter is here!! filled with crofter’s refills and sadness :DD it’s quite the ride, so i hope you enjoy it, reader ^-^
> 
> special thanks to the one and only @infinitesimalsolemnvow (tumblr) for being the best beta-bestie out there — my writing partner-in-crime, responsible for 99% of the angst that otherwise wouldn't made it in here, heh.

_“yellow tulips = please, please, **please**  be with me.”_

~*~

They’ve been driving down the near-empty street for about ten minutes, and every now and then, Roman took nervous glances towards Virgil, who was in the passenger seat; his eyes glued out the window, not saying a word.

Roman noticed that the atmosphere had been tense ever since they had left Logan’s shop. Virgil had a stoic, cold expression as soon as he took a seat in Roman’s car. Roman wanted to talk to him— desperately wanted to ask him to speak his mind. But all there was in the car was  _silence_ , and Roman knew that once he opened his mouth, it would just be loud, and it would be the wrong thing to say.

“I shouldn't have left.” Roman’s grasp on the wheel loosened in relief.  _Finally_ , the silence had been broken. But as soon as the words left Virgil’s mouth, Roman frowned.

“Shouldn’t have left…?” He repeated, prompting Virgil to clarify.

“Shouldn’t have left Logan,” Virgil mumbled as he stared straight ahead at the cars speeding past them, all the lights blurry through his unfocused eyes. “Shouldn’t have yelled at Logan either. I should’ve stayed out of it, I should be there right now f _or Patton_ …”

“Virgil,” Roman whispered, and Virgil looked up at him with wide, glassy eyes. “You’re doing everything you can.”

“I  _left_  him.” Virgil’s voice cracked. “All it’s going to do is break that trust. Patton has already gotten upset at me for arguing…now Logan? It’s all my fault. I should know better. I’m such a dumb  _fucking_  excuse of a brother—”

“That’s not true and you know that,” Roman said firmly. Virgil said nothing in return, and Roman sighed. He slowed down at the intersection and faced Virgil.

“ _Mi pequeño rayo_ –” Virgil can’t help but smile at the nickname– “you are the loveliest, sweetest, most caring younger brother to Patton. And while you can try to help him—and you  _have_  been helping him, all this time—you are never obligated to take the hit when things get rough. Patton’s problems do not fall in your hands to fix.”

“But I should know better. He helped me…I need to help him—  _them_ ,” Virgil protested.

“It’s not up to you. That’s their choice,” Roman said reassuringly.

“No, you don’t understand.” Virgil tugged the ends of his sleeves down to the palm of his hands anxiously. “Roman, he’s  _alone_  in there— they’re  _both_  alone in there. Roman, I know more than the two of them will ever know about this kind of stuff and  _I_ chose to leave them in there.”

“Yeah, well I chose to leave too,” Roman muttered, staring back ahead.

“What would you know about—” Virgil started off angrily, trying to hold back tears. But when he saw Roman’s jaw clench tightly, his eyes suddenly fixated at the bright red light, he immediately stopped his sentence short.

“Roman, I—” Virgil started to say, softer now.

Roman’s phone suddenly rang, buzzing inside the cupholder. Roman glanced down at the phone and back up at Virgil, who took that as a sign to answer the phone.

“Hey,” Virgil said, his voice sounding scratchy and forced.

Roman snuck a brief glance at Virgil and saw him frown. Virgil turned to face Roman, his eyes wide.

“It’s Logan.”

The light flashed green, and Roman immediately made a sharp U-turn. Virgil’s hand flung to the “oh shit” handle in fear. He sputtered out that they were on their way before fumbling to end the call. He sent a glare Roman’s way as he tried to calm down. 

Roman was decent enough to flash him a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, it’s…Logan…”

It wasn’t too long before they were back at the flower shop as Roman had done his best to break every driving law to get there as fast as possible. He barely put the car in park before he jumped out of the car and rushed to the shop. Roman was by Logan’s side as soon as they opened the door. Virgil followed behind, grabbing the keys from the ignition and making sure the car was locked. By the time he entered the shop, Roman was already knelt down and holding Logan in a tight embrace.

“I-I’m so sorry—” Logan hiccuped.

“Shh,” Roman whispered as he slowly took Logan by the arm.

“I– God, I-I don’t know how I could be so stupi—”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Roman continued, looking over Logan’s shoulder and signalled for Virgil to get Logan’s keys that were on the counter. Virgil, who was frozen beside Roman the entire time, quickly broke out of his daze to do as he was told. He already was cursing himself. Obviously it went as poorly as he had feared and it was all his fault.  

“I f-failed, I don’t know why I thought I coul—”

“We’re going to my place, okay?” Roman grabbed Logan’s coat as he led him out of the shop, with Virgil following not too far behind.

Logan was hit by the cool, evening breeze as soon as they got outside of the shop. His tears went cold and his grasp tightened around Roman’s arm.

“I was b-being illogical,” he said, staring at Roman. “If I didn’t feel anything, Patton would no longer have to suffer.  _He’d be happier._ ”

Roman could feel Logan’s and Virgil’s stares drilling in his head. He straightened up, breaking his stare from ahead and looking at Logan.

“If you were illogical for feeling emotions,” he said softly, “then we are all actually idiots.”

“That’s not exactly proving me wrong.” Logan mumbled, staring at the ground.

He shook his head and led Logan to his car, Virgil wordlessly trailing behind them.

The entire ride, Roman kept his eyes on the road, forcing his stare straight ahead whenever Logan’s choked-up sobs broke the heart-wrenching silence.

As soon as they got to Roman’s apartment, Logan numbly explained everything Roman sat beside him the entire time, rubbing his thumb over Logan’s shaky hand he was holding.

The silence when Logan was finished was unbearable, and it wasn’t until Virgil came back from the kitchen—having heard every heart-wrenching detail—and nervously set down a mug in front of Logan did Logan break out of his spell.

“I-I’m sorry,” Logan said quietly.

Virgil immediately froze, not sure if it was directed to him as Logan just stared at the mug when the words left his lips. This didn’t deter Logan, who continued as if there was no pause at all.

“He– I failed.” Logan’s hands continued to shake. “I failed your brother and...and I failed you. You wanted me to do something right and I  _fucking_  screwed up.” His heels of his palms pressed against his eyes, pushing his glasses up, as if that could stop his tears.

“Logan, I should’ve never expected you to do  _anything_ , no matter how much I...I made it seem like you had to do something and…you can’t really  _do_  anything.” Virgil played with the hems of his sleeve, suddenly feeling as if the room was closing in on the two of them.

“Virgil, this isn’t your fault either—” Roman tried, but Logan put one of his hands up, silencing Roman.

“But it’s my fault that he reacted the way he did.” Logan readjusted his glasses as if the words he said weren’t hurting him at all, as though his words weren’t falling in between hiccups and sobs he couldn’t keep in. Couldn’t  _control_. “I-If he did not take the news well from me, it is a fault of no one else b-but my own.”

Logan hung his head, not daring to look at Roman—whose worried eyes he could feel from beside him—or Virgil.

“I fear that...that I have hurt him,” Logan continued. “Therefore, I deserve w-whatever contempt you hold for me.”

Before he could say anything else, he heard shuffles towards his direction. He barely lifted his head to see Virgil go around the coffee table and onto the couch beside him. Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder, and Logan tensed up briefly under the warm touch.

“Logan, buddy, I…” Virgil sighed. “Look, I was wrong. About you, I mean. I was taking a lot of my anger—anger at Heather, at myself—and I forced that on you because I needed an outlet — a reason. But you didn’t deserve that because all you did was help.”

“I—”

“We can all play the blame game — on ourselves, on others, no problem. But it’d pointless because the important thing is that we were all there.  _You were there._  And we’re all trying — don’t forget that part, okay?”

Virgil dug his hands into his sweater pockets.

“It...It all sucks, I guess. I mean, it could obviously be better. But...an abuser’s siren song is just...too hard to resist, you know? She has him wrapped around her finger and we can’t control that.”

“He’s your brother,” Logan said firmly, almost bitterly. Virgil nodded.

“Not right now he isn’t.” Virgil’s tone is icy,  _cold_. “Right now, he is  _hers_.”

Silence. Roman cleared his throat.

“You know what–” Roman shot off the couch, standing firmly on his feet– “we don’t have to talk about this right now.”

“And what do you propose we do talk about?” Logan asked wearily.

“I have all the necessities that this night calls for.” Roman broke into a small smile. “Crofter’s, crackers, documentaries on bees — everything that can get our mind off of tonight, yeah?”

“Logically speaking, I believe getting properly  _shitfaced_  is the appropriate method to forget this night even happened,” Logan with a jaring moment of clarity.

Virgil’s eyes widened.  _“W-What?”_

Logan nodded, standing up.

“Is it not?” He stared down at the mug as if he could knock it off with a single glare. “I do not believe  _hot chocolate_  is going to wipe Patton’s face from my mind.”

Virgil and Roman silently shared a few bewildered looks.

“I mean, I can’t argue with that logic,” Virgil said hesitantly, slowly standing up and heading towards the kitchen before Roman could stop him. Roman’s eyes widened, but he quickly disappeared into the kitchen with Virgil.

Roman soon returned with two glasses of wine, Virgil trailing behind him. He held one up towards Logan, who narrowed his eyes at the glass.

“Just a glass, Roman? How conservative of you.” Logan grabbed the glass before Roman or Virgil could say anything else. “I do believe I said  _shitfaced_ , no? I would very much like to forget that tonight ever happened.”

“Lo, I don’t know if that’s such a good—”

“Idea?” Logan asked incredulously, laughing bitterly. “It’s mine, Roman; of course it’s a sound idea. Just let me do as I please, alright? I  _am_  being responsible enough by not drinking alone at home.”

Logan drank the wine in one go, ignoring Roman and Virgil’s surprised stares. He grimaced at the bitter taste, looking incredulously at the two. Roman gulped nervously.

“I– ah—”

“Well, are you going to get me another glass, or not?” Logan snapped.

Roman bit his lip, glancing at Virgil for backup. Virgil, however, went for the other wine glass in Roman’s hand and downed it, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“I think we could all use a little forgetting, if you ask me,” Virgil finally said.

Roman visibly deflated and closed his eyes.

“Fine.” He took their two glasses and set them on his coffee table, before staring bravely at the Virgil and Logan. He sighed. “If you’re going to do this, you might as well do it with the good stuff.”

It didn’t take them long to get to the giggly stage. They still had Logan’s “feel better” staples of Crofter’s, crackers, and good documentaries; but rather than hearing long-winded ramblings of a multitude of facts, there were hushed whispers, rambunctious laughter, and hilarious commentary.

It was unnerving for Roman, who had elected to remain rather sober, to see Logan so…loose. Not once had Logan ever lost this much control in all the time that Roman had known him, and all it took was a little alcohol.

And as much as he enjoyed this freer-version of Logan,  ~~as much as he enjoyed seeing him as someone who looked as if nothing ever hurt him,~~  it pained him to know that it all stemmed from heartbreak. He didn’t want his brother’s first foray into the battlefield of love to be so painful because _Logan didn’t deserve that_ ; not when he was so forgiving and understanding of everyone around him — including himself.

Roman found himself staring at Logan, watching as Logan got into a heated debate with Virgil about something in the documentary, and he couldn’t help but smile softly at him.

“Bees are  _everything_ ,” Logan rambled at Virgil, tipping the neck of the vodka bottle lazily and taking another sip. “How can you say that they don’t  _do_  anything? They– they do  _everything_ — say, did you know that they take care of flowers? Like, really  _really_  well. They sometimes– they take care of mine too! Did you know that? It’s a fact; scientifically proven an’ everything.”

“Someone has to,” Virgil teased, and Logan threw a flimsy punch to his shoulder. Roman said nothing, smiling kindly—almost sadly—at the two.

“I wonder where Heather lives,” Logan blurted out abruptly, catching Roman’s attention. “Maybe–” Logan hiccupped, breaking into a loopy smile– “maybe we can break in. Steal some stuff. M-Mix up her...her important documents.”

“That would suck,” Roman laughed.

“She deserves it,” Logan said seriously, swinging the end of the bottle at Roman and Virgil, as if accusingly pointing it at them. “She...she hurtin’...Pat doesn’t deserve her. He deserves  _me_.”

Logan frowned to himself, and added, “He– he deserves  _better_.”

Roman frowned and, in that very moment, decided that Logan deserved nothing but to be happy.

“God, she is a  _bitch_ ,” Virgil said loudly, snapping Roman out of his thoughts. “Is it too late to give her  _Draino?_ ”

Roman looked at him, and Virgil smiled sheepishly.

“Maybe  _I_ should stop drinking,” Virgil said in a hushed tone. Roman rolled his eyes, nodding playfully at him.

Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of a phone buzzing. Logan stiffened and reached for his phone with a frantic hand. He melted into a puddle of absolute relief when he saw that it was not his phone, but was instead Virgil’s.

Virgil held his index finger up, excusing himself as he lifted himself off the floor. He grabbed his phone off the coffee table and headed near the entrance of the apartment to answer the call.

Roman stood up as well, leaving Logan on the ground. He grabbed the empty bowl off the coffee table.

“I’m gonna get chips — want anything, Lo?” Roman asked nervously. Logan shook his head, holding an empty jar of Crofter’s at Roman without taking his intense stare off the TV.

“Just a refill.”

Roman sighed sadly and grabbed the jar, going to the kitchen.

When Logan was alone, he reached for his phone, lazily unlocking it and scrolling through it. In his haze, he landed on the messages app and when he opened it, he is immediately brought to the last message he received.

He stiffened as he read the last bits of it.

_“Where you are now will not be where you remain forever — your father and I are willing to give you a second chance, Logan, dearest. It is your choice to accept it.”_

It was his mother, he realized. He never responded.

He continued to stare at the words:  _“I will see you at dinner.”_

 _‘She doesn’t care,’_ his though accusingly. _‘Fuck, she has the **audacity**  to send you something after– what,  **years**  of disconnection?’_

A surge of anger— a red-hot anger towards everyone  ~~and one that burned a black hole straight through his relationship with Patton~~ ; all of it bubbled up inside of him, rolling and raging until he distantly felt himself  _explode_.

His thumbs messily flew across the keyboard, making a multitude of typos and typing as if he were  _screaming_ —screaming words he would never say sober—and he was  _crying_ ; tears building up in his eyes until he couldn’t see his words anymore.

It isn’t until he hits send that he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“ _Logan_.”

Logan quickly turned around—turned his head so fast that he felt dizzy—and when he blinked the tears away, he saw  _Roman_ ; whose stare was switching between him  _and his phone_.

“What–” Roman almost looked afraid– “what did you do?”

Logan said nothing, but the hand holding his phone shook, tightening around the edges.

“D-Did…” Logan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his glasses up and taking a shaky breath. “Did you know that I wanted to– to give Patton yellow tulips? I– I would’ve given them to him when...when he broke up with Heather tonight.”

“Logan—”

“They represented hopeless  _love_ ,” he spat out, as if the word alone felt wrong in his mouth. “They spoke of the phrase: ‘please, please,  _please_ ; fucking choose  _me_.’ Did you know that?”

“You texted your  _mum_ ,” Roman said instead, a mix of worry and concern. Logan threw his phone on the ground beside him.

“So what?” Logan scoffed. “My– my hopeless, stupid,  _illogical_  decision-making has made me pathetic. I kept pleading—I kept asking  _please_ —and what...what did it get me?  _Nothing_ , that’s what. Everything I say holds no meaning — what fucking difference is it to send empty words into a void? They– they don’t fucking care about me. They haven’t before — why would they  _now?_ ”

“Logan, you need…” Roman trailed off; what Logan needed was to move on, but there was no way that he could say that.

“To hell with what I need. It’s– it’s illogical to think of myself in such  _dire_  times.” Logan reached over the coffee table clumsily to grab the vodka bottle. Roman grimaced and took it before Logan could get his hands on it.

“No more for you,” he murmured. Logan frowned.

“It’s what’s making me  _sane_.”

“I beg to differ.”

“It’s– it’s helping me. Swear on...on the bees.”

Roman, not entirely satisfied, glared at him sternly.

“Logan, give me your phone too.”

“What?” Logan almost looked offended, picking up the phone and hugging it against his chest. “I—”

“Trust me,” Roman said; “ _please_.”

A beat of silence. Logan held up his hand and gave the phone to Roman, who nodded his gratitude and pocketed it.

“Only ‘cause I’d fuck up more if I had it,” Logan muttered.

“Logan...” Roman sighed. Logan shook his head, almost in a child-like fashion.

“Look, Roman, I fucked up. Everyone knows; it would be just  _silly_  of me not to acknowledge that,” Logan said grimly. “I should have treated everything with more...more  _finesse_. Instead, I messed everything up— messed up like I always do. Messed up on being the perfect son, messed up my chance to be a...a fucking doctor and became a disappointment instead. Now look; I messed up any chance at  _any_  relationship with Patton, and, let’s face it–” Logan gestured to his phone– ”I probably just messed up now.”

Logan shook his head. “I’m not smart enough, just not– not...not enough at all.”

“Logan, while I hope you know that you’re more than enough–” Roman brushed the hair out of Logan’s eyes softly– “you have to remember that you don’t have to be good enough for anyone.”

Logan frowned. “Not even Patton?”

Roman shook his head.

“Not even him,” he said. “You’ve done everything you can for him, even when you didn’t have to. What happened tonight was...unfortunate, but what happened tonight wasn’t because you stepped in. You said what you had to say, and Patton...it’s his choice, whatever he does. Not yours. You don’t have to fix Patton, no matter how much you want to — you don’t owe anyone anything.”

“Well that doesn’t make sense,” Logan huffed, crossing his arms.

“Not everything makes sense,” Roman retorted.

“Machineels,” Logan muttered.

Roman looked at Logan incredulously. “What?”

“Manchineels,” Logan recited as if he were reading from a textbook; “a species of flowering plant in the spurge family.”

He narrowed his eyes at Roman and finished, “Means ‘ _falsehood_.’ ”

Roman broke into an amused smile.

“You’re smart,” he chuckled.

“I know,” Logan replied, almost sadly, “but not always. Not tonight.”

“Not everyday is a...a ‘smart-Logan’ day,” Roman said, feeling as if he was explaining something to a wide-eyed child. “You wouldn’t be a florist if you were smart at every second. You’d, like, rule the world.”

“That’d be cool,” Logan mumbled, slowly beginning to lean his head on Roman’s shoulder. Roman nodded, holding his hand softly.

“But everyone makes mistakes,” Roman explained; “even the smartest of world leaders. Even you;  _especially_  you. And everyone is  _allowed_  to make mistakes. And look! Not-always-smart-Logan still manages to...to rule the world.”

“The world,” Logan echoed slowly. He sighed. “It could all be so much more...simple , don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

Logan shrugged idly, lifting himself off Roman’s shoulder and averting his stare.

“I find that the world becomes clearer— _simpler_ —when you look at things in a logical fashion. That’s how I’ve always been, and the– the one time I change...look at me  _now_. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Lo, dear–” Roman rubbed the back of Logan’s head with his thumb softly– “some things just don’t make logical sense.”

“Not anymore it doesn’t,” Logan muttered bitterly, leaning back on Roman’s shoulder. “I have yet to– to figure out why that is.”

Silence. Roman did his best to find the right words to say, but a single look at Logan was all Roman needed to realize that nothing he could say would help him now;  _all he would say was the wrong thing._

Before Roman could make any sort of move, the two were interrupted by Virgil’s frantic voice from the entrance of Roman’s lounge.

“Look, I’m coming, I—”

Roman and Logan exchanged worried looks upon seeing Virgil, who was anxiously running his hand through his hair. His phone was pressed between his shoulder and his ear.

“Just take a deep breath; 4, 7, 8, remember? I will— I am at Roman’s.” Virgil was nodding frantically. He paced past Logan and Roman to take his sweater off the couch, leaning against it as he spoke.

“I’ll be right over, don’t you worry, okay? I— yes, Pat, I love you. I love you so  _ **fucking**_  much, I’ll be there before you even know it. I promise, okay? I love you, just stay on the line and I’ll—”

Silence. Virgil’s eyes widened.

“Hello? Pat, I—  _fuck!”_  Logan nearly jumped as Virgil slammed the phone on the couch, breathing heavily.

“Virge?” Roman asked, immediately going to his side. Logan stumbled towards Virgil as well, going to pick up Virgil’s phone. Virgil shook his head.

“We have to go,” Virgil said frantically, his voice rising from his once-quiet murmur. “Come on, he— what are you two standing there for?! We don’t have time, we just don’t—”

“Virgil,  _mi pequeño rayo_ , please calm down,” Roman said, nearly stumbling back as Virgil stormed past him.

“We have to go,  _let’s go_ —” Virgil said, hastily swinging the door open and speeding out of the apartment.

“What’s happening?” Logan asked, his eyes wide and glazed. Virgil’s spun around, glaring at both of them with stare eyes that held what could only be described as  _fire_.

“We need to go. All of us,” he finally said. “Patton– Patton fucking caught her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- comments, kudos, whatever — i love ‘em all! thank you for reading ^-^


	18. Red Dahlias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ring box fell onto the wood floor with a dull thud. Patton stood stock-still, staring at Heather. This surely was a horrible dream. This couldn’t be real, could it?
> 
> The scene of Heather in their bed— no.  
> It was her bed. 
> 
> Patton felt himself back away, his vision blurring behind tears.
> 
> The stranger was in her room;  
> not in their home, but in her apartment.
> 
> That was going to be her ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: swearing, manipulative/abusive behaviour, cheating, self-deprecation, implied panic attack
> 
> a/n- *boops* helloo, hope ur doin’ well, reader! welcome to chapter 18 :PP
> 
> of course, all my love goes to @infinitesimalsolemnvow (tumblr)/SolemnVow (ao3) who’s been with me throughout this entire chapter (it’s so crazy we even have outtakes — look at them when ur done reading on her tumblr, they’re great :’)) ). it was a real bitch, to say the v least, heh. 
> 
> but it’s done now! and i hope you enjoy it, reader — the chapter before the end of arc 1 of this mayhem, heh. anyway, im getting ahead of myself! enjoy the chapter, friendos <33

_“red dahlias = betrayal, i trusted you.”_ **  
**

~*~

The ring box fell onto the wood floor with a dull thud. Patton stood stock-still, staring at Heather. This surely was a horrible dream. This couldn’t be real, could it?

The scene of Heather in  _their_  bed— no.   
It was  _her_  bed.  

Patton felt himself back away, his vision blurring behind tears.

The stranger was in  _her_  room;   
not in  _their_  home, but in  _her_  apartment.

_That was going to be **her**  ring._

“Patty!” Heather’s shocked cry broke him out of his trance. She was already scrambling to get out of bed, her eyes wide and teary. “Patty, darling, don’t leave, I—”

Patton shook his head and scurried out the door in a rush, every fibre of his being screaming for him to leave, to  _run_. All he heard was Heather screaming,  _pleading_  at him to stay, but he only could pick out mere words; his mind filled encased full of the need to  _leave_.

“David, you absolute fuckhead! This is all YOUR FAULT!” was the last thing he could hear before the door to their apartment slammed shut behind him.

 _‘Wha…What am I going to do?’_  Patton nearly tripped over his feet, trembling as he staggered down the hallway and towards the staircase.  _‘Fuck, I need to leave, I need to go, where do I go– I have nowhere to go; that’s my **home**.’_

His body was numb,   
his mind was racing—  
_he didn’t know what to do._

 _What could he do?_  Patton stumbled as he made his way down the stairs in a fog. He had nowhere else to go; where could he go now?  _He was alone._

His hands shook as he clung to the railing like a lifeline. He couldn’t get the vision of Heather out of his head, her shocked expression painfully seared into his brain like a brand. How could she do this? Weren’t they in love? He…loved her, didn’t he?  _They were meant to be, weren’t they?_

His hand flew up to his mouth as he let out a dry sob. What had he  _done?_  He pushed Virgil away, and Logan— God, he hurt Logan,  _how could he be so stupid?_

He was alone. Why would anyone help him now? He needed help, needed to go, needed to leave. He felt  _lost_ , almost confused; felt himself thinking about Heather,  _but why would he think about Heather?_

Patton blinked and looked around in a daze as he was faced with a blast of cold air. When did he get outside? He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself; none of that mattered.

 _‘I need help.’_  His thoughts were racing a mile a minute.  _‘I need– I can’t go back.’_  
  
Then where could he go? He was basically homeless. He couldn’t go back to her now; at the very least, she was upset with him, but she was cheating on him! Shouldn’t he be angry? Why didn’t he feel angry?

His head hurt,  _what was he going to do_ ; God, he just wanted to cry and sleep forever until he woke up from whatever sick dream this was.

Patton pinched himself—maybe it was a dream after all?—but all he felt was a small, painful sting; no, still here.

He shoved his hands into his pocket and felt his phone. Maybe…

His hand shook as he fished the phone from his pocket. Sure, his phone was nearly dead, but it wouldn’t hurt to try, was it? Bros forever and all of that, right? They would never…

Patton’s finger hovered over Virgil’s contact. He took in a shuddering breath and pressed ‘call.’

His were shaking as he brought his phone to ear, the empty buzz droning in his ear. Waiting for the phone to go through and for Virgil to pick up felt like an eternity; was this purgatory? The longer it went, the more Patton felt like giving up.

 **Because**  if Virgil didn’t answer— _oh God forbid; please please please answer_ —he would be alone with  _her_.

_And everything with her was a damn lie, wasn’t it?_

Patton covered his mouth to silence his broken whimpers. Just the thought nearly made him want to be sick.

 _“Hello?”_  Patton snapped back to reality, breathing a shaky sigh of relief.

“V-Virgil!” Patton hiccupped — was he crying; when did he start crying? All the words he wanted to say were stuck in his mouth. “Oh my God,  _Virgil_ …”

 _“Pat? Pat, what’s going on?”_ Virgil’s voice was a little more frantic, and he felt a sudden urge urge to put Virgil at ease; to push past his own anxiety over calling for a help. That was what was right, that’s what he had to do—

No! He needed help. He needed out.

“S-She…Virgil, she–” Patton half-sobbed, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands. “God, I-I’m so so sorry…”

 _“Pat, I don’t understand, who is ‘she’–”_  Patton visibly grimaced at the silence, before hearing Virgil whisper, “ _Shit_.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t…I hurt you”

_“Don’t you fucking apologize, Patton– fucking hell, where the fuck is my sweater?”_

“V-Virge, I–” Patton was shaking, too fast, ** _no air–_**  “Fuck, I don’t know what to do, I’m outside, I don’t know where to go… how could she–” He made an anguished noise. “Please just—”

 _“Pat– fucking shit–”_  Patton could hear rustling in the background,  _ **everything was too much** – “hey, it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay, I fucking swear…”_

“No it’s not!” Patton’s scream was raw, scratchy. “Fuck, Virgil, I ruined everything. I ruined it, I ruined it, I ruined it, I always do;  _she’s going to leave_ —”

 _“What the hell did she do, Pat.”_  Virgil’s voice was suddenly cold; serious. Patton sobbed loudly.

“Y-You–” He struggled to find the right words– “y-you and Logan were  _right_.”

Silence.

“W-What am I going to do?” Patton sniffled, his voice suddenly sounding so small. “Can…Virge, I need something–  _someone_ ; can you…can you—”

He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t speak, there were no words, there was no air.

_“Look, I’m coming, I—”_

“Please come and get me, Virge, I don’t know what to do, I screwed up—”

_“Just take a deep breath; 4, 7, 8, remember?”_

“I can’t believe I could be so stupid, I’m so sorry, please come and get me.”

 _“I will– I am at Roman’s.”_  

Patton could hear echoes of someone shuffling. His heart was racing:  _4, 7, 8; in for 4, hold for 7…_

_“I’ll be right over, don’t you worry, okay? I—”_

Patton felt everything spinning, he could barely  _hear_  Virgil anymore.

“I-I love you, Virge.” Patton could feel his words spilling out. “Please come and get me, okay? God, Virgil, I don’t wanna be  _here_  anymore, I’m outside, I can’t do this alone, _not anymore_ —”

 _“Yes, Pat, I love you.”_ Patton was shaking, his heart was racing, he couldn’t breathe.   _“I love you so fucking much, I’ll be there before you even know it. I promise, okay? I love you, just stay on the line and I’ll—”_

Silence. Patton frantically stared at the empty-battery sign on his phone and he bit back a frustrated scream before seemingly giving up.

 _He wasn’t alone._ The thought continued to run circles in his head.  _He wasn’t alone, he couldn’t be._

They were going to come back for him.

Patton wrapped his arms around himself as best he could.

_They had to._

* * *

Virgil was like a vengeful storm, all furious and frantic movements with no sign of stopping.

“Caught her, caught her doing what– Virgil?” Roman watched as Virgil circled back around and stormed past him back into Roman’s apartment. “Virgil, please tell me what’s going on—”

Virgil sighed in frustration, grabbing Roman’s old varsity jacket off the coat hanger at the door.

“He fucking  _caught her,_ ” Virgil hissed. He threw the jacket at Roman and growled, “Take this, we’re leaving  _now_.”

“Leaving, we– Virgil, slow down!” Roman hung the jacket over his arm as he grabbed Virgil’s arm before he could speed past him into the hallway again. “Virgil, I need you to explain what’s going on. You’re freaking me out, what happened with Patton? Is he okay?”

“He isn’t,” Virgil murmured, averting his eyes from Roman, who slowly loosened his grip on Virgil’s arm. “Something happened with Heather, but that isn’t important. He’s ready to leave.”

His hand clung to Roman’s sleeve, manically trying to keep himself together. He looked up at Roman, and suddenly all Roman could see was  _fear_.

“This is our chance,” Virgil said, his voice nearly breaking, “so we have to get Patton. Got it?”

Roman blinked before it clicked. His eyes went wide.

“Holy  _shit_ , you mean—” Roman looked at Virgil, who just nodded. Roman quickly grabbed Logan by the arm and pulled him towards Virgil in one swift motion.

“Get you and Logan in my car.” He fished the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Virgil. “I’ll be out in five minutes; I’m going to get some boxes and get a better jacket.”

“Get a better jacket– what’s wrong with that jacket?!” Virgil asked, exasperated. Roman looked at him incredulously.

“A varsity jacket? For a showdown?” Roman laughed. “Yeah right. It’s vintage, sure, but this calls for leather, baby.”

Virgil shook his head in disbelief, dragging Logan down the hallway.

“C’mon,” Virgil murmured, “we’re taking the stairs. Probably quicker than waiting for the elevator.”

“You said Heather’s name, Virgil, what happened with Heather?” Logan stumbled a bit behind him, his words tumbling out in a messy heap. He nearly got hit by the staircase door as Virgil swung it open.

“It’s Pat, Lo,” he said, not looking back.

“Patton!” he exclaimed. “We’re seeing Patton? That’s good news, ri—”

“We have to get Pat and we have to get him before that  _bitch_  can touch him,” Virgil cut him off, jogging down the stairs ahead of Logan, who immediately stopped in his tracks.

“Is Patton…?” he trailed off. Virgil looked up at him and all he did was nod. Logan’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m taking shotgun,” he said firmly. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Fine, whatever. Just hurry up.”

Logan and Virgil quickly went down the stairs and into the parking lot, climbing into Roman’s car. Virgil took the driver’s seat and Logan sat beside him.

It only took five minutes for Virgil to start getting antsy.

“Where the hell is he, I swear to God.” Virgil’s leg was bouncing with nerves as Logan wordlessly stared out the window, admittedly getting impatient for Roman too. “I don’t care about him or his damn outfit, I will drag his ass out of his closet, I’m telling you…”

Suddenly, they heard frantic knocking on the car windows. Virgil incredulously looked at what appeared to be Roman behind flattened cardboard boxes, rolls of tape, and some blankets.

“Roman, what…what the  _hell_ –  _?_ ” Roman shuffled back to make room for Virgil, who climbed out of the car and began hauling all of whatever Roman was carrying into the trunk of the car.

“Supplies,  _duh_ ,” Roman said as if it was obvious. “Mi amor, this is a rescue mission — you wanna save the princess, you’re gonna need a sword!”

Virgil looked at him with a deadpan expression, and Roman meekly added, “And, uh, some other stuff too. Obviously.”

Before Virgil could say anything else, Logan reached over to the driver’s seat and rolled down the windows.

“We have to go,” he said stoically, and if he felt even remotely panicked, it was barely evident in his voice.

Virgil sighed, stuffing the rest of the boxes and Roman’s “supplies” into the backseat before climbing in himself. Logan recoiled back into the passenger seat and Roman took the wheel.

The sound of tape ripping was drowned out by the sound of Roman revving up the engine. Logan immediately grabbed onto the handle on the car’s ceiling, trying his best not to get anymore sicker than he was already feeling.

“Quick warning,” Roman said, “the objective of this mission is to get to Patton’s as soon as possible. So we’re fucking with the laws of physics tonight, boys.”

“The laws of physics– ?!”

Before Logan could finish his sentence, Roman slammed his foot on the accelerator, his hand on the gear stick as he pushed it forward. He let out a loud yell, smiling smugly as the wheels screeched before speeding out of the parking lot.

“Jesus Christ– Roman, slow– you need to slow down!” Logan exclaimed, swallowing thickly as Roman ran a red light.

“Not tonight, Lord Geek-quad,” Roman said, opening one of the windows and quickly shifting lanes. Logan swung left at the sharp movement. “The streets are empty for our quest after all! How you’re doing with those boxes, mi pequeño rayo?”

“There is no way in  _hell_  that I’m going to be able to tape these fucking boxes together if you’re going to drive that fast!” Virgil hissed. Roman briefly looked at his rear-view mirror to see Virgil struggling to open one of the boxes. He shrugged cooly before taking an abrupt left.

“Not with that attitude you won’t!” he exclaimed, speeding down the highway.

Virgil groaned. “Do you even know where you’re going?!”

“Not in the slightest clue, my dearest stormcloud.”

“Jesus  _fucking_  Christ…”

“You want to go off the highway at the third exit,” Logan blurted out. Roman glared at him, and he could even feel Virgil’s stare on him. He meekly shrugged, before Roman smirked.

“Okay, Logan’s our new navigator. Virgil? Chop chop!” He pushed the accelerator even harder and Logan’s grasp on the chair arm tightened.

“Do we even have everything we need?” Virgil asked incredulously. Before he could answer, Roman suddenly braked as a car in front of them switched lanes, forcing everyone forward. Logan felt himself turn green as Virgil swore at Roman. Roman dismissively shook his hand.

“Sorry, sorry; there’s, uh– oh, there’s a first aid kit under your chair. Bring that.”

“Exit here, Roman!” Logan managed to say, and the wheels screeched once more as Roman sped off the highway.

“Brace yourself boys,” Roman said, his eyes fixated at the road ahead of him. “I’m gonna get us to Pat faster than the blink of an eye.”

Logan closed his eyes as much as he dared while Roman broke the law as safely as possible.

“If I survive this, I’m never going to drink again…” he groaned. Roman made another sharp turn.

“I think you can keep that promise, Logan, because we’re here!“ Virgil announced. “And I– shit, that’s Patton; oh,  _Pat_ …”

Virgil quickly stumbled out of the car as Roman screeched to a stop at the front entrance. Logan followed, not too far behind Virgil, who enveloped Patton into a hug.

“ _Virgil_ ,” Patton sobbed in Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s grasp tightened around him.

“It’s okay,” Virgil said soothingly, rubbing circles in Patton’s back. “Pat, I– I’m never going to leave you, okay? You’re okay, it’ll be okay…”

“It’s not, Virgil, it really isn’t!” Patton cried, shaking in Virgil’s embrace. “S-She  _slept_  with someone else, s-she…she—”

“It’s okay, Pat, I got you…” Virgil said again, looking up at Roman, who was climbing out of the car, and Logan with wide eyes. Roman cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the car. Logan took the signal and went to get the boxes in the backseat.

“How long have you been out here?” Roman asked. Patton shook his head, slightly lifting it off Virgil.

“T-Ten…maybe fifteen minutes? I don’t know, I don’t—”

“It’s okay, that’s fine,” Virgil said, holding Patton’s shoulders so that he was facing him. He brushed a bit of hair out of Patton’s face.

“What am I going to do?” Patton whispered, almost helplessly. “She’s still there, guys, she’s still there in our home…”

Virgil and Roman exchanged looks and Virgil’s eyes narrowed.

“Fuck that.” He gently grabbed Patton’s arm and marched towards the entrance. “We’re going to go up there, grab your stuff, and get the hell out of there.”

“But Heather—”

“Fuck Heather,” Virgil hissed. He held Patton’s hand and gave him a determined smile. “You have us. We’re not going to let her hurt you — you’re not going to be alone.”

Patton gave him a tired smile. Virgil turned around to face Roman.

“Help Logan grab some boxes.  _Hurry_.”

Roman nodded, sending Virgil a small smile— _“It’s going to be okay”_  it read; God, Virgil hope he was right—and went back to Logan. Virgil ushered Patton back into the apartment building, holding his arms around him as if sheltering him from even the air around him.

“V-Virgil,” Patton whispered when they got to the elevator. Virgil stopped, looking down at Patton.

“Yeah?”

“Why doesn’t she love me?” he asked timidly. “What…what did I do wrong?”

Virgil felt his heart shatter.

“Nothing.” Virgil shook his head, wrapping Patton in a hug. “God, Patton, don’t blame this on yourself. This…this was  _her_ , this was all of her. You did nothing but be yourself and if she thought she could  _hurt you_  because of that…”

Virgil trailed off, and Patton pulled back slightly to see fire. Virgil gritted his teeth and pressed the elevator button, the sudden movement startling Patton.

“She’s in for a nasty surprise, that’s for sure.”

Patton’s eyes widened as Virgil’s head whipped towards the noise of Roman and Logan struggling to haul cardboard boxes through the doors. He rolled his eyes.

“Move it, you guys,” Virgil hissed. “We don’t have all night.”

The elevator doors swung open and the four of them quickly gathered into the elevator.

* * *

Quiet elevator music played and Logan tapped his foot, timidly looking up at everyone else.

Roman was nervously looking at Virgil, who was fuming quietly; his hand was holding Patton’s hand tightly, and his stare travelled across the ceiling, almost aggressively. Patton was softly sniffling in the corner of the elevator, and it took all of Logan’s willpower not to wrap him in a tight hug.

The doors swung open with a quiet “ding!” and Virgil immediately stormed out, gently dragging Patton out of the elevator behind him. Logan and Roman exchanged concerned before continuing to carry the boxes out of the elevator, trailing behind the two.

The closer they got to Patton’s apartment, the more Logan could hear muffled screaming and cursing. Patton froze at the front door, nervously fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

Virgil squeezed Patton’s hand he was still holding reassuringly.

“Patton?” Virgil asked softly.

Logan placed a hand on Patton’s shoulder and nodded, speaking to Patton for the first time that night.

“It will be okay, I…I assure you.”

Patton looked at him, their eyes locking for a split second. Logan meekly smiled, and Patton smiled back before putting the keys into the lock and opening the door.

As soon as he walked in, Patton caught sight of Heather, who was mid-shout with the other man. However, as soon as she saw Patton, she immediately flashed a wide smile at him.

“Patty!” she cheered, rushing towards him and grabbing his arms. Patton flinched. “Patty, darling, oh my goodness I’m so glad you came back to your senses and—”

Suddenly, her eyes travelled behind him and watched the door open again. She pushed Patton aside and before she knew it, she was face-to-face with Roman, Virgil, and Logan; carrying poorly-taped boxes.

Virgil pushed past her and into the apartment. Heather turned on her heel and glared at him.

“What the  _fuck_  are you guys doing here?” she hissed between her gritted teeth, an eerie grin on her face, before turning back to Patton. “I don’t remember inviting these people here, Patty, darling.”

“We brought some things to take some things, hope you don’t mind,” Virgil said sarcastically, looking at his nails on one hand while his other rested on Patton’s shoulder. Her eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?” A grin still plastered on her face. “What things? This isn’t your apartment. Thank you for bringing Patty back up here, but now he’s here, safe with me, so you can leave.” She leaned in, trying to place herself between Patton and the others. Virgil crossed his arms.

“Well, first of all, you’re in my personal bubble, so I’m going to need you to back the fuck up before I  _make you_ back the fuck up,” he hissed back. Logan’s eyes widened, and Patton immediately cowered in Logan’s chest. Startled for a split second, Logan hesitantly wrapped his arms around Patton. Heather froze for a second, blinking slowly.

“Are…are you  _threatening_  me?” She let out a hollow laugh. “David, did you hear him?”

The man sheepishly looked down. 

“…Hear what?” he muttered and crossed his arms, looking all the world like he wanted to disappear. Heather scoffed and shook her head.

“What do you have to say to this, Patty?” Her voice was low, almost as if she was sulking. She sobbed loudly. “Are you really going to stand there and– and just let them  _take_ you from me?”

Patton averted his eyes and said nothing.

“He’s leaving, Heather, plain and simple.” Virgil said from behind her. “Just get out of our way and we’ll be gone before you know it so you can get back to your…whatever that is.”

“Hey…” David whined. Roman rolled his eyes at him and Heather crossed her arms, focusing solely on Patton.

“I’ve given you everything and for what?” she started tearing up. “After all the money I’ve lent you? The things I’ve bought for you? Does the life  _I_  built for you mean  _nothing?_ ”

“Heather, I—” Patton tried to say.

“Don’t listen to a word she says, Patton,” Logan suddenly spoke up, and they both looked at him. Logan kept his eyes on Heather. “I assure you, n-nothing from her is true.” Heather scoffed.

“Patty, now that’s just not true! We’re high school sweethearts! Meant to be! I’ve given you all I am! All I ask if for you to be a good boyfriend…..”

“All you ever did, Heather, was  _ruin_  his life,” Logan growled, standing in front of Heather. “Yes, you have given him all these things, but you never gave him  _everything_. With every trinket you spent your money on for him, with all the love you  _bought_  him; all you did was take bits of his life away, and for what? For  _you?_  So he could be your little puppet? Yes, you gave him things, sure, but did he ever demand it? And he’s given his whole life to someone who, quite frankly, doesn’t deserve it.”

“Who are  _you_  to say anything about what Patton thinks?!” she snapped at him. “You’ve only known him, for what, a year? We’ve been together for nearly a  _decade!_ We were happy until you showed up!” She started crying, wiping the tears away from her cheeks.

Heather stormed past Roman and Virgil and grabbed David’s wrist, dragging him past everyone.

“F-Fine!” she hiccuped. “Fucking fine _._  You can all take him from me!  _See if I care!”_

“Well, we fucking don’t!” Virgil called out behind her. Heather sniffled and pulled out a tissue.

“I’m taking David home and– and I want you gone by the time I get back! Or I’ll call the police!”

As she pushed the man out of the apartment, she spun around on her heel and glared at Patton, pointing a finger at him.

“I can’t believe you’d be so mean, Patty. To me.” Patton stared at her and for a split second, he felt sorry.

_“Don’t you love me, Patton?”_

Patton said nothing.  _Didn’t he?_

He closed his eyes.

“Goodbye, Heather,” he finally said.

Heather stared at him for a few more seconds before growling at him, storming past him before slamming the door behind her.

As soon as the door closed, Patton felt his mind go blank — what did he just  _do?_

He must’ve been standing still for a long time, staring into space, because he immediately stiffened once Logan placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said softly. “She’s gone.”

Patton said nothing, averting his eyes away from Logan. Logan sighed.

“You can tell me what you want me to pack. I doubt that Virgil will be needing our…assistance. After all, he seems as if he’s wandered off.”  Logan chuckled half-heartedly. Patton did his best to smile. “Roman left for a while to grab more boxes, so until he comes back…do you want me to help you with what’s left in your room?”

All Patton could do was nod wordlessly, his body numb as Logan quietly headed to his room.

Patton stared at the door that Heather walked out of and let out a shuddering breath.

_She’s going to come back eventually._

The thought that once reassured him on nights like this,  
didn’t reassure him anymore.

* * *

The packing felt as if it took forever.

It was mostly quiet, especially between Logan and Patton; everyone, after all, was working fast because as pissed as they were at Heather, there was no way any of them were ready to test her if she came back. The silence only being broken every time Roman asked Patton a random question about his stuff or when Virgil snickered as he filled his box.

As Roman walked out of Patton’s room with the last of the boxes, Patton found himself looking around his now-empty room.

A picture frame on his bedside table caught his eye, and he went over and wordlessly picked it up.

It was a picture of him and Heather. He recognized it from one of their earlier days together; the colour was slightly faded, the photo probably being taken in some park he took her to once. They were both holding an ice cream cone — Patton was eating his as Heather, who was holding the camera, was kissing his cheek.

Their smiles nearly reached their eyes.

“Patton?”

He immediately looked up to see Logan at the door.

“Roman and Virgil are in the car, so I…” He trailed off, averting his glance from Patton. He hesitantly stuck his arm out for Patton, clearing his throat. “We’re leaving now. I can…accompany you out, if you would like?”

Patton nodded, setting the picture frame face-down on the table and walked up to Logan, giving him a tired smile. 

“It was so real to me…” he whispered, his smile falling. “It wasn’t all a lie, was it?” 

Patton stared up at Logan, who looked over at the picture frame.  
  
“I cannot answer that, Patton. But maybe it was, once upon a time. I think you’re making the right choice now.” 

He held out his hand for Patton to take. Patton nodded numbly, and grabbed his hand. Logan gave him a sympathetic smile and led Patton out.

They got to the car not too long after, Roman and Virgil in the front seats while Logan opted to stay with Patton in the back.

They all sit in the car quietly as Roman began to drive.

Patton felt his heart tear in two as he watched the apartment he called a home grow smaller and  _smaller_  in his vision; as if he was leaving an entire  _life_  behind.

He suddenly let out a loud sob, catching the attention of everyone in the car. Roman wearily looked out through the rear-view mirror at Patton, frowning sympathetically. Virgil turned around and sighed.

“I-I–” Patton buried his face in his hands– “I’m so  _sorry_.”

Logan wrapped him in blankets as Patton buried his face into Logan’s shoulder. His sobs almost echoed in the car as Patton  _cried_  because as horrible as Heather was starting to become in his eyes,  _he still lost her._

“It’s going to be okay,” Logan whispered, softly taking Patton’s hand and rubbing it with his thumb. “It’s going to be okay, Patton, I’m—”

Patton looked up wearily at him, and Logan paused before closing his eyes and leaning against Patton as well.

“We’re here for you,” he said softly. “Forever and always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


	19. Withered Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a lunar interlude.
> 
> (feat. one (1) favourite dramatic boi  
> struggling just a tiny bit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- guess who’s back *raises the roof, as my fellow kids do* back aga i n :PP
> 
> tis i! ur fellow bean! i am back again, late at night, with a short interlude for our dearest story back from the war, golden slumbers :PP
> 
> yeah yeah, i know it’s been a while. life, ya know? my dearest co-writer, SolemnVow (@infinitesimalsolemnvow on tumblr), and i have been super busy with school stuff and social stuff and general life stuff. life has been, to say the least, v v stressful lately :’)
> 
> that leads me to this little announcement: as i said before, this is a bit of a short interlude, hence the short word count. we both figured that it’d be good to have a small break in between the last chapter and the next (that has been roughly planned :’)) ). also it was good to have something since it has admittedly been a while since this story has been updated, just so there’s something to fill in the gap before we post the next chapter plus this means the last chapter of the arc is an even number which makes me happy lol :PP
> 
> but because of general life stuff, we plan on having the next proper chapter (excluding solemn’s coming halloween special for golden slumbers *a-wink doink* :PP) coming out sometime in december! we apologize for the long wait, but it’s important that we put all our school stuff and what not first; im not really up for failing any of my classes, heh :’)
> 
> thank you for your understanding though! we appreciate all the patience and support as we truck through it. you’re the best <33
> 
> in the meantime though, subtle spon, i did write a new story that i am super proud of! you can find that under my profile as "the lake" if you haven’t read it already. and i have been writing a new story that should be comin out sooner or later. who know. overall, i promise that i’m still alive – i’m just going through stuff (take a shot every time i say “stuff” in this a/n lolol) :PP
> 
> anyway! enough with all that, heh. on with the chapter! i hope you like this brief lunar interlude featuring our favourite dramatic boi. love u all, hope ur all well. enjoy the chapter! ^v^

_(Though in heavy burdens,  
may you soak in their tears._

_A little rain will not kill them._

_Because withered flowers can be saved._

_Withered flowers can be saved,  
withered flowers can be saved,_

_withered flowers can be saved.)_

…

The neon lights of a gas station fill Roman’s eyes as he drove by it. The ride so far had been relatively quiet, but it was peaceful, at least. Roman was thankful for that.

He glanced back in his rear view mirror to see Patton, quietly shifting in his seat as he fiddled with the hem of the blanket sprawled over him; and Logan, who was idly staring out the window, not saying a word.

He gave Virgil a pointed look, ready to tease him (“Told you supplies were worth bringing,” he would probably say) but instead he saw Virgil staring out the window as well, distracted by the  glare radiating off of a long, winded road lined with lights blurring through his rain-soaked window.

Eyes still glued on the road, he reached out and flicked Virgil’s arm. Virgil glared at Roman, who gave him a small grin in return. He motioned his head towards the back where Patton and Logan were resting.

 _‘Comfort blanket,’_  he mouthed, not feeling up to breaking the silence just yet. He flashed him a pearly smile, spacing out each of his words. ‘I’m a genius.’

Virgil rolled his eyes and held up his index finger.  
  
_‘Just this once,’_  he mouthed back, flipping up his hood and digging his hands into his sweater pockets. However, he did see a small, half-amused smile, which he took as a win. His grin  widened as he continued to drive along the empty road; this time, more mindful of his passengers.

The atmosphere fell back into into an uncomfortable silence as Roman slowed to a gentle stop, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited at the red light.

Suddenly, another kind of brightness blinded him aside from the red light, and his eyes glanced over towards his phone that was mounted on the dash. A notification for a new message was showing on the screen.

He then looked over at Virgil, who was staring at him intently with his equally-bright phone in his hands. He nudged towards the phone, and Roman looked at the screen once more.

 _‘Say something,’_  it read. He looked over at Virgil, confused. Virgil sighed, motioning his head towards the back and allowing Roman to look through his rear-view mirror once more.

It’s only through the new sources of light reflecting through the window and off his phone that he actually sees Patton and Logan’s faces.

Logan looked a bit too somber– a little less tired than Patton, Roman thought. 

Patton, however, looked  _exhausted._  Roman caught the glimpse of tear stains on his cheeks before the light from his phone dimmed down and it was dark in the car once more.

The light turned green and Roman sighed, continuing to drive. He was so caught up in his thoughts— _what should he do, what should he do?_ —that it wasn’t until another glare from Virgil and his phone screen brightening up again that he realized he hasn’t said anything. The words ‘say something’ flashed briefly in his eyes, the alert reminding him that it had been two minutes since Virgil sent it. He cleared his throat.

“Um–” His loud voice triggered audible movement from the backseat– “it’s, uh, gonna be a  _fantastic_  night– or at least, rest of the night; don’t ya think, fellas?”

He winced at the slight crack in his voice. He could feel Virgil’s narrow stare drilling through him. He took a glance at him as Virgil mouthed,  _‘what the_ fuck _.’_

 _‘I’m trying!’_ he mouthed back, his right hand waving in an attempt to convey his desperation. Judging by how Virgil rolled his eyes and sunk deeper in his seat, he wasn’t even sure if he knew what he had said.

No one had responded to his remark. He could feel Virgil’s judgemental energy radiating onto him, and he pushed harder to raise spirits.

“You know,” he forced himself to continue, “on the bright side, we get this great sleepover, am I right?” He awkwardly smiled. “I have great comfort food; ice cream, chocolate, warm beverages– I have, like,  _all_  the tea. Britain is  _quaking_.”

 _Was he still talking?_  All he could hear was Logan’s quiet breathing, and the rustling of the comfort blanket. Roman’s smile fell before he heard the quiet sound of Virgil rapidly typing on his phone.

Eventually, his mounted phone flashes again, and he briefly glanced at Virgil’s new message;  _‘He likes hot chocolate.’_

“I make a mean hot chocolate too,” he blurted out. He tried to keep his voice even as he smiled again, hoping Patton or Logan or  _anyone_  would see it. “I even stocked up on marshmallows! And whipped cream if that tickles your fancy; all the works.”

Before he could say anything else, he heard what seemed like a scratchy chuckle from the back seat.

“That would be nice,” Patton said quietly. Roman’s eyes widened at the response, and he could feel as if everyone—even Logan—was pleasantly surprised at the sound of Patton’s voice.

“Of course!” Roman said, looking over at Virgil and mouthing,  _‘keep going!’_

Not too long, a new message flashed on Roman’s screen once more:  _‘He really liked that one tigger movie - the one about finding family or w/e’_   

A second after, his eyes were filled from the light of another message:  _‘actually wait, that might be too sad tho - u know what, any winnie the pooh movie should be good :)’_

For the rest of the ride, Roman kept the conversation light; mentioning all the movies they would watch, how he would text his friend and drive up to Marie’s in the morning to catch the first batch of donuts for the day, or how he would stuff his car with as much ice cream as it could hold.

He didn’t get much—a small laugh or tired smile from Patton if he was lucky, or even a half-amused smirk from Logan—but it was working, he was sure of it.

 _Come on, Roman,_  he thought to himself as he drove along.  _You’re the knight in shining armor! The creative one– the **prince!**  This is your moment!  **Keep going!**_

Eventually, they drove down the ramp of the parking lot of Roman’s apartment. Roman liked to think that by this point, everyone was a little happier.

He smiled to himself.  _Mission accomplished._

As Logan helped Patton out of the car, Roman climbed out of his seat to open the trunk, ready to start grabbing some boxes.

But before he could move, he felt a light tug on his jacket. He turned around to see Virgil’s eyes staring intently at him.

“Yes, mi amor?” he asked smoothly. He grinned when Virgil just continued to look at him, going over to the trunk and grabbing a box. “If ya like what you see, just take a picture already, mi pequeño rayo. I look pretty from  _all_  angles.”

Virgil rolled his eyes and instead of saying some biting remark back, he went over to Roman’s side. Roman watched him with a slightly confused smile and before he knew it, Virgil stood on his tiptoes and pressed a light kiss against Roman’s cheek. A blush quickly spread across Roman’s cheeks as Virgil’s face broke into a small smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered lightly, close to his ear. “You’re doing great.”

Before he could reply, Virgil took the box from Roman’s hands and followed Logan and Patton towards the entrance with the staircase; the one that would lead them all  _home_.

Roman stared ahead in the direction Virgil left, his hand moving to the spot where Virgil had kissed him. He let out a small sigh.

 _He was doing great!_  The thought echoed in his mind as he grabbed a few more boxes, closing the trunk for now and quickly following them.

 _He’ll continue to be their hero,_  he reassured himself with a small smile.  _As it should be._

…

_(“So spare some time,  
spare some time._

_Through time, you’ll know  
how sorry I am._

_Nothing will hurt more, I know;  
nothing more than the rain’s sharp sting._

_Trust me, love; just give me some time;  
‘cause withered flowers will grow again.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n- comments/kudos/random letters/whatever are great! 
> 
> as i said before, we will be taking a bit of a break until december-ish, so pls be patient with us! in the meantime, solemn will be releasing that halloween special i mentioned earlier, and i might be popping in every now and then with a story i’ve been writing for a while. so either way, we are not dead. promise. :PP
> 
> anyway! thank you for reading, mes amies; hope u enjoyed it <33
> 
> you can find me on my tumblr, @my-happy-little-bean :)


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